


One Court, Two Kings

by volleydorks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Angst, Iwaizumi works at a publishing house, Kags the Cleaner, M/M, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Panic Attacks, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru, Tsukishima Kei Likes Dinosaurs, Tsukki the librarian, Volleyball, biweekly updates, but all ends well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-01-04 21:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 75,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volleydorks/pseuds/volleydorks
Summary: Oikawa Tooru — one of Japan’s most well-known setters. He’s also one of the first athletes in Japan to be openly gay. The LGBTQ+ community sees him as a martyr, the athlete community sees him as a special setter and the women see him as some of the best eye-candy to grace their TV screens. (Too bad he’s gay.)Kageyama Tobio — a guy who gets paid minimum wage to clean the court and not much else. He had a dream, just like anyone else. A dream to stay on the court; a dream to make it to the top. A dream to be the best in the world. But, his parents couldn’t afford to send him to America in order to attend a once-in-a-lifetime training camp. They were struggling financially, so Kageyama gave up on his dreams and settled for cleaning up one of Tokyo’s most famous gymnasiums.Every night, when the crowds are gone and the athletes are resting, Kageyama steps onto the court, grabs a volleyball and plays a game all by himself. He sets, he tosses and he spikes — all by himself. He always thinks that he’s alone, but little does he know that he’s being watched by the legend himself, Oikawa Tooru.Is it ever possible to have two kings in one court?





	1. Finding a Purpose

      “And he wins again! That’s Seijoh for you! Fantastic, simply _fantastic_!” The announcer’s going wild — but who can blame him? Seijoh had snatched victory so _easily_ from a team that they’d lost to just months ago. With the help of a certain orange-haired middle blocker named Hinata Shouyou, victory had been inevitable.

      The other team, Ubugawa, looked dejected. They weren’t crying, but they might as well have been. Their fists were taut and toughened by their sides; their breathing was laboured. They’d put so much energy into this, so much _effort_ , and they hadn’t even been able to snatch one set from Seijoh. Seijoh had taken all three sets with ease.

      “Alright, guys! We did it!” The captain of the team, Oikawa Tooru, was laughing and high-fiving his teammates. He seemed even _more_ overjoyed than anyone else there, if that was even possible. His forehead was dripping with sweat; his thighs were shaking with fatigue, but he was still smiling. This was how a pro was; this is how a pro _is_.

      “Oikawa!” The captain’s boyfriend, Iwaizumi Hajime, was calling his name out loudly from the crowd, waving and cheering. He could usually be seen admonishing Oikawa for his silly antics, but right now, he looked prouder than anyone. “You played amazingly!” Amongst all the other people shouting, it was near impossible to hear his voice, but Oikawa somehow seemed to hear him. He turned to face the dark-haired man and shot a big grin at him. At the sight of Oikawa’s grin, the crowd became even _more_ rowdy. They were all there to see Seijoh’s ‘freak quick’, the quick that Hinata and Oikawa had devised. Ubugawa had been powerless against it.

      The referee put his hand up. “Line!” The players lined up, the victors wearing big smiles while the losers looked resentful. “Bow!”

      “Thank you for the game!” It was Hinata’s voice that was the loudest, although nobody was surprised. He’d been a little ball of energy, darting around the court and jumping again and again. His stamina had increased ten-fold since his high school years. Now, he was practically unstoppable.

      “Thank you… for the game…” Ubugawa’s teeth were gritted. They were angry about the result, they really were. They didn’t _want_ to thank these people. They’d destroyed Ubugawa without a second thought. How long had they lasted on this court again? A mere thirty-seven minutes? _It’s not over_.

      The crowd was calling out praise as both teams bowed to the audiences that had come to support them. The gymnasium was alight with joy; excitement. It was an amazing atmosphere. An atmosphere that Kageyama Tobio got to see day after day.

      “Man.” He sighed to himself as he got up from where he’d been sitting and walked out of the room. He didn’t want to see any more of it. He loved the court. That’s why he didn’t want to see anyone else standing on it. He was usually required to clean the court up once everyone had left, which meant he didn’t actually have to watch the match. He’d only come in because he was curious about Seijoh’s new ‘freak quick’. His friend, Tsukishima Kei, had insisted that he go to see the match.

      It was strange that Tsukishima and Kageyama had ended up being close friends. When they’d first met during high school, they’d hated each other more than anything. It’d gotten to the point where they’d go to extreme lengths just to hate on one another (nobody could forget the time where Kageyama sprinkled salt over Tsukishima’s head, called him ‘Saltyshima’ and told him to go back to the sea because he’d get along with all the ‘sea-whores’). But one day, they’d realised that they were a lot more similar than they’d originally thought. While they still have a hate/love relationship, they’re a lot closer than they used to be.

      The media was swarming past Kageyama, most likely planning to get some interviews with Seijoh before they left. Kageyama wasn’t too bothered. He just knew that he needed to get home before his cat starved to death. He’d forgotten to top up the cat food this morning and it had been eating at him throughout the entire match. _Please be okay, Gun Gun. Please_.

***

      Meanwhile, Oikawa was breezing his way through the media.

      “Yes. I’m satisfied with this victory; I don’t think there’s _anything_ we could’ve done better. This time, we were the superior team. That’s all there is to it,” he said, adding his signature grin. The reporter, who was female, was too busy swooning to make notes on what the athlete was saying.

      “Oikawa-kun,” another male reporter said. The nametag on his jacket read ‘Moniwa Kaname’. “Right now, do you think that you’re the best setter in Japan?”

      “Does pizza taste like the best thing ever?” He shot another dazzling grin at Moniwa, so bright that it was enough to make the reporter look away for a few moments. The female reporter looked like she’d faint any second.

      “Hey! Ask me questions!” Hinata was jumping around, trying to grab the attention of the media. As much as he enjoyed being on the winning side like this, he _hated_ how Oikawa was getting all of the attention. _So what if he’s conventionally attractive? Hinata’s the reason they scored so many points…_

      “Alright. Hinata-kun, what is it like to be on a team with Oikawa-kun?” Hinata fought the urge to face-palm himself. The questions were _always_ about Oikawa. _Always_. If it wasn’t Oikawa, then it was Ushijima Wakatoshi, Seijoh’s explosive ace. They hardly ever gave any attention to Nishinoya Yuu, their libero. He’s the reason they hardly conceded any points during these three sets. And then there’s Tendou Satori and Kuroo Tetsurou, who managed to block nearly every spike that Ubugawa managed to make. And then there’s Bokuto Koutarou, who made all sorts of crazy plays during the game. They’d all played their hearts out. Yet, all the media cared about was Oikawa and Ushijima.

      “Moniwa-chan,” Oikawa began to say. “There’s other amazing people on our team too. There’s our other setter, Aka-chan. He might be on the bench, but he could be pretty close to beating me.” While Oikawa enjoyed the attention he got, he didn’t like how the media practically ignored everyone else in Seijoh. His teammates are the only reason he can perform so well, after all.

      “Yes, yes. Oikawa-kun, what’s your exercise regimen?”

      Oikawa grinned. “Well, it was Kuroo who made all of our exercise regimens, so you should ask him.” Kuroo appeared beside Oikawa, wearing that same cool smirk on his face.

      “Ah,” Kuroo began to say. “Well, for Oikawa’s exercise regimen, I—”

      “Never mind,” Moniwa said, shaking his head. Kuroo appeared slightly pissed by the action, but he didn’t say anything. He simply stepped to one side, allowing the reporters to get more angles of him. “Oikawa-kun, what’s the next step for Seijoh?”

      “We’re taking the world,” Oikawa began to say. “With all of my teammates. Chibi-chan. Kuroo. Yuu-chan. Sato-chan. Kou-chan. Our players on the bench, too. Dai-chan. Asahi-chan. Taka-chan. Terushima-chan. Oh, and _Ushijima_.” The last name sounded slightly harsh when it left his lips, something that Moniwa’s eager ears didn’t miss.

      “Oho,” Kuroo said, popping his head up again. He knew first-hand just how much Oikawa _hated_ Ushijima. It had once gotten to the point where Oikawa didn’t toss to Ushijima for an entire game. That was how they’d lost last year’s match against Ubugawa. Oikawa had been sharply admonished by the coach and for the following matches, Akaashi had been playing as setter. This was Oikawa’s first match ever since the incident. It just so happened that it was with Ubugawa again. This time, Oikawa hadn’t neglected Ushijima, but he hadn’t over-prioritized the ace either. The setter had learnt to keep his emotions off the court when they were in a game, but there was nothing that could be done for his loathing of the ace.

      “Oho oho,” Bokuto said, looking over at Oikawa. Kuroo and Bokuto had exchanged many theories on why Oikawa hated Ushijima so much, since the latter didn’t seem to hold any sour feelings toward Oikawa. The conclusion they’d reached was that Ushijima had been a past lover of Iwaizumi’s, and that was why Oikawa hated him so much. They weren’t even sure if Ushijima was gay in the first place, but they knew how vicious Oikawa could be when it came to Iwaizumi. It was the only explanation.

      “Hey! Guys!” Ukai Keishin, Seijoh’s coach, stepped onto the scene, ushering the team members over with one hand. Ubugawa was getting interviewed by some other members of the media, but most of them were on Seijoh’s side of the court. “The coach is outside, let’s go!”

      Hinata blinked at the coach. “But you’re here.”

      “He means the _vehicle_ coach, Shou,” Nishinoya said, looking over to the exit of the gymnasium. “We must advance. And celebrate this victory!”

      “Wait, wait,” Moniwa said, “We’d like to ask a few more questions—”

      “Sorry. You guys will get your answers soon,” Ukai said, already beginning to walk towards the exit. The rest of the team was following behind him, still covered in the afterglow of victory. It felt amazing, like they were basking in liquid gold and soaking it in. They truly felt like victors. Finally, they were one step closer to becoming number one in Japan. Now, it was time to take over the world.

***

      It was almost one in the morning when Oikawa stumbled in through the front door, drunk off his feet. He’d been driven home by the ever-responsible Daichi, who had been accommodating enough to help all his teammates that had decided to drink themselves into the ground.

      “Aren’t you meant to get drunk when you _lose_?” Daichi had asked. He’d been met with the sound of Oikawa vomiting. _That_ was an unpleasant sound, one which Daichi didn’t want to hear again. Especially in the backseat of his brand new car.

      And now, Oikawa was at home, stumbling over to the living room. It was too much effort to try and make his way up the stairs. He just _knew_ he’d fall down if he even tried, so he didn’t bother.

      “Oikawa.” Iwaizumi was sitting in the living room. From the looks of it, he’d been waiting quite a while for the setter to come home. There was a cake on the table, one which read ‘Well Done’ and a small gift box from Iwaizumi himself. “You said you’d come home at seven. It’s one in the morning.”

       _Oh shit_. Oikawa was trying to mentally sober himself up, but it didn’t seem to be working. He knew that Iwaizumi had been waiting for him, but he’d convinced himself he’d be able to go home after a little bit of sake. He’d ended up downing three pitchers with the help of Bokuto, who was just as much of a drunkard as he was. He’d also eaten a lot of crisps and nuts. His stomach was just swilling with nuts and alcohol. _No wonder he feels so sick_.

      “I… I’m sorry, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa slurred. “I’ll make it up to you.”

      Iwaizumi sighed. It was _always_ like this with Oikawa. The athlete seemed to forget about him most days. Even though they lived together, it felt more like Oikawa was with him so that he could proudly proclaim that he was the first openly gay athlete in Japan, not because Oikawa genuinely loved him. He was never sure how to feel about the setter. Iwaizumi himself worked for a publishing house, regularly reviewing novels and documents for aspiring authors. He loved literature, practically breathed in it. He’d taken a day off so that he could go to watch Oikawa’s match and celebrate the win with him. But Oikawa hadn’t come home all day. The cake had gone cold and Iwaizumi’s mood had dampened along with it. _Seijoh won, but Iwaizumi feels like he somehow lost._

      “Whatever. Sleep it off,” Iwaizumi ordered, getting off the couch so that Oikawa could get on. The setter flopped onto the couch, falling asleep in less than three minutes. His body was twisted awkwardly, he had a leg sticking right off the couch and his arm was hanging off the edge of the couch. Iwaizumi arranged his position so that he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit while sleeping and draped a blanket over his boyfriend, letting out a deep sigh as he did so. _Is this working?_

      Meanwhile, Kageyama was back at Tokyo’s gymnasium. The last match of the day had been at ten p.m., lasting a whole two hours. Matches usually didn’t go on for so long, but it had been inevitable. The two teams had been strong, so the match had been pretty close. Either way, it was Kageyama’s job to clean the court. He’d already scrubbed them until they were squeaky clean and polished them, but he couldn’t help but play a small game to himself every now and again. He’d toss the ball somewhere and dash to that position so that he could spike it. He’d also practice serving, those same monster serves he’d seen Oikawa do.

      Once he’d tired himself out by missing the serves, again, again and _again_ , Kageyama took another trek across the gym while pushing the trolley in front of him, leaning down every now and again to catch a stray ball in the curve of his palm before slinging it upward so that it fell in with the others. It was late. Too late, really. Last time he’d checked the clock, it had just hit twelve. Chances were that maybe an hour or two had passed since then. He’d have to come into work tomorrow; he’d have to be on time. But he couldn’t resist the temptation to walk up to the net; the temptation to let his fingers graze along the white netting.

      There was no air conditioning in the gym at this time of night since he was the only one left in the entire building. He wasn’t exactly standing still, so he had sweat pouring down his face. He was pretty sure that he was looking like a tomato — his face always got quite red whenever he ran around a few seconds too long. Then again, many people have described Kageyama as a blank canvas. People have described him as many things, but they’ve never described him as what he _felt_.

      There were times when Kageyama felt like a bird with clipped wings. Being in the crowd, watching all those players touch the sky while scoring points… he was envious. When Oikawa swaggered around the court, proudly proclaiming “This is my court!” with his eyes, he felt envy burning deep inside his heart. He scrubs the court with nothing but a cloth and some polish, the repetitive action often rubbing his fingers raw. He would’ve rather had his hands raw by spiking, setting, _tossing_. Anything but preparing the court for the victors. Just like how everyone in basketball envies the guys who can slam dunk, Kageyama has started to envy the birds who can fly. Or, well, the guys who can jump.

      His heart is beating faster now. He’s gripping the net so tightly it feels like he’s gripping at his own heart. It feels just as fragile as this net. It’s securely tightened, but at the same time, it wouldn’t take much to tear it down. He’s frustrated that he can’t be as great as Oikawa. He tries to serve like him, to _set_ like him, but it never goes right. He’ll have the image clear in his mind when he throws the ball up in the air, his high school number nine emblazoned in his mind as he jumps up and taps the ball with his hand. He’s completely off, as he expected. The ball hits the ground, gently patters off someplace else.

      It’s been too long. He doesn’t have what it takes to be a setter anymore.

      Why does he keep coming here every night? It only means he has to scrub the court twice as hard; that he has to get less sleep than usual.

      Why?

      One of the lights on the far side of the court flickers. Kageyama swipes the back of his hand against his forehead, wiping away the sweat again and again. Even when it’s gone, he keeps _swiping_. Hoping that something will change, that this magic ritual will somehow make him get better. It never does. After these two years he’s spent coming back every night and trying to become the setter he’s always dreamed of being, he's still not quite ready to give up.

      As much as it sucks, really just sucks, to miss every great shot that he can visualize, he's not ready to give it up; this feeling. Because flying through the air like this, imagining that one day he’ll have a crowd watching him as he touches the sky… it’s pretty amazing. But it won't happen. He's nothing but a cleaner. He’s made no big accomplishments in life. His high school grades were average and he never went to university. He was more focused on making some income and helping his parents out. And now, he’s twenty-three years old, standing in a court that he’ll never get to play a real match on. It’s way too late for him to become a pro now; he knows that.

      But it's fun to pretend, even if only for a night.

      “Alright. Kageyama, nice serve,” he whispers to himself, standing at the back of the court with the ball in his hands. He tosses it up, takes three calculated steps and jumps on the fourth. The ball makes perfect contact with his hand. It shoots across the court, landing just before the ‘Out’ line. It went so quickly that Kageyama wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it or not. But then, he looked at his hand. It was a little red, aching a little from all the balls he’d handled. _It happened, alright_.

      “Nice serve. Again.”

      Yet another perfect serve. _Is it because he’s putting his feelings into the ball? His regrets; his sorrows?_

      “And again.” The ball makes it over. Kageyama could’ve sworn that it had just as much power as Oikawa’s, although he couldn’t control where it landed. Right now, it was still hit or miss.

      The fun thing about pretending is that when you’re done, you can go back to living your normal life like nothing happened. Kageyama can see himself in a match right now, but then he’ll go to the home he shares with his parents and talk to his cat a little.

      Then, he’ll go to sleep and dream about the same thing all over again. Volleyball. _If only he hadn’t given it up_.


	2. I Have Responsibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That was when he heard the police sirens.  
> Does he pull over?  
> Does he speed away?

      It was one in the afternoon when Kageyama woke up.

      “Shit! I was meant to be at work an hour ago!” He hopped out of bed and got dressed at a record speed, grimacing when he realised that his work shirt was still damp with sweat. It was the only one he had. _Damnit_. He rushed into his parents’ room, grabbed his mother’s perfume and sprayed it all over the shirt. It didn’t do much to cover the offending stench, but it made it a bit more bearable. He pulled it over his head and rushed over to the bathroom, brushing his teeth like a hamster on meth. He’s panicking because he didn’t take a shower when he got home and he probably smells like he just ran a ten-thousand mile marathon, but also because _he’ll get his pay docked if he’s late_.

      Twenty minutes later, Kageyama was rushing down the stairs, waving a quick goodbye to his parents in the kitchen and then he was out through the door like a lightning bolt. He hopped into the car, buckled himself in and began to speed through the streets. He knew speeding was bad, but being late was a lot worse. How’s he meant to help his parents pay the bills if he’s not getting paid? With a mother that suffers from fibromyalgia and a father who has to stay and look after her, it’s up to Kageyama to help them out.

      That was when he heard the police sirens. _Shit_. _Does he pull over? Does he speed away? No, don’t do that._ After much internal conflict, Kageyama slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road. The police car stopped behind him. A man stepped out, quite a stout-looking man. He walked over to the window and knocked on it, prompting Kageyama to roll his window down.

      “What seems to be the problem, officer?” Kageyama’s voice was shaky. Nothing could hide that. He’d never been much good at interacting with people, _especially_ people who were in higher positions of power than he was. He was at the lower end of the spectrum, but the police… they might as well have been God-level on that very same spectrum.

      “You’re doing fifty miles in a thirty-mile zone. That’s the problem.” The officer had a gentle appearance, but his voice was harsh and rough. It was something that sent chills going up Kageyama’s spine.

      “I… I apologise, Officer.” His arms wouldn’t stop shaking. He was gripping the steering wheel for his life, even though he was only idling the car. His right arm kept jerking every now and again, just _showing_ the officer how much of a scaredy-cat he was. Kageyama’s beginning to feel embarrassed for himself.

      “Driving licence.” The officer held out his hand expectantly. Kageyama’s hands were trembling so much that he kept dropping the licence on the seat rather than into the officer’s hand.

      “I’m sorry…” Kageyama didn’t understand why he was so nervous. _Goddamnit._ With much concentrated effort, he was finally able to steady himself long enough to drop the licence into the officer’s outstretched hand. The officer inspected it, scrutinised Kageyama’s face carefully and gave the licence back to him.

      “I’m writing you a ticket for speeding. You’ll have to pay a fine of eighteen-thousand yen. If this fine isn’t paid in four weeks time, you’ll be hit with a court sentence. If that happens, you’ll be expected to pay court fees on top of the outstanding fine. Have a good day, sir. Try not to speed on the way home, eh?” The officer slipped the ticket through the window and walked away before Kageyama could respond. Eighteen… _thousand_. He only made around sixty thousand a month after taxes. And then the bills could reach figures of thirty, forty thousand yen. He wouldn’t even have half his salary left once he paid that off.

      Kageyama was shaking too much to start driving. He could feel his breathing beginning to quicken. _Is this a panic attack? God, it’s been so long_ …

      His phone was ringing on the passenger seat. He knew that it might be his boss, so he slapped his hand down on it, all the while trying to control his breathing. He was surprised when he heard Tsukishima’s voice.

      “Oi. Kageyama.”

      “Y…Yeah?” His eyes were now beginning to water. _Shit_. He can’t stay calm. His breath just kept running away from him; he couldn’t catch up to it. It was ahead of him. Just like his dreams, always running away from him before he can grab a hold of them. He’s feeling breathless, so breathless that he’s not sure if he can muster up any more words. All he can see is that ticket on his lap. All he can see is the disappointment on everyone’s face. His high school teachers, his old friends, _everyone_. Nobody’s ever believed in him.

      “Shit,” Tsukishima hissed. “You’re having a panic attack. You’re at work right now, right? I’ll drive in. I know you’re an airhead and all, but don’t take in more oxygen than you can handle. Your brain will explode.” _Of course_. Even in situations like this, Tsukishima wasn’t afraid to sass Kageyama. “Oi, Kageyama. Are you listening? Stop breathing.”

      _Is he telling me to kill myself?_ If Kageyama had been in a better state of mind, he might’ve been able to sass back with something clever, but he _wasn’t_. He couldn’t focus. All he could see was the past, all the mistakes he made. _If he was a pro volleyball player, he wouldn’t be struggling to pay the bills. He could get his mother better medical care_.

      “ _Kageyama_.” Tsukishima’s sharp voice was enough to snap Kageyama out of his thoughts. “Breathe. Just… breathe in…” Tsukishima was kind enough to do the breathing with him. Kageyama tried to oblige, but his breath was still a little jumpy. He was jittery, like he’d just downed coffee laced with nicotine and extra caffeine. “And breathe out…”

      It was a good five minutes until Kageyama’s breathing had returned to a somewhat normal pace. He took one last deep breath through his lips, let it out through his nose and then he laid back in his seat. He was finally able to somewhat relax.

      “Now, Kageyama. Are you at work?”

      “No. I’m on the Haneda Route Expressway.”

      Tsukishima clicked his tongue in frustration. “ _Shit_. You can’t drive after having a panic attack. Your dumb ass will probably crash the car. I can’t come there either. I’m in Tokyo, but I can’t exactly _walk_ down a busy road, can I?”

      “I’m fine,” Kageyama insisted. “I’m only ten minutes away from work.”

      “Don’t tell me you’re still going to work…”

      “I have to.” Now that he’s got this traffic ticket on his conscience, he won’t be able to relax if he just goes home because of a _panic attack_. Everyone has them. It doesn’t make him any less special.

      “Kageyama, I’ve known you for eight years. Most of those years I spent hating you, but I still knew you for eight years. In fact, I think what I felt for you was beyond hate. It was abhorrence—”

      “I’m going to hang up if you keep being an asshole.”

      “…and you wonder why I’m the only one that calls you—”

      “Shut up!”

      Tsukishima chuckled. “Yeah, you’re definitely yourself now. Alright. Well, if you’re going to go to work, make sure you phone me. And _don’t stay later than you need to_. I know that your senpais might expect it of you since you’re the kohai, but _fuck that_. You’ll work yourself into a grave if you keep scrubbing those damn floors. I’ll never understand why you won’t just move up to Tokyo and get a job working in the library. The pay’s better.”

      “I have responsibilities,” Kageyama said, turning on the ignition. His mind was somewhat clear now. He was now almost two hours late for work, but he was still determined to make it there. Hopefully his pay doesn’t get docked _too_ badly…

***

      “This isn’t the first time you’ve been late, Kageyama-kun.” He was sitting in his boss’ office. He was also giving Kageyama a stern look, one which made him want to melt into the plastic chair he was sitting on.

      “I deeply apologise, Boss. I’m willing to work overtime to make up for it,” Kageyama said. Even if his boss _didn’t_ accept the offer, he’d be staying late anyway. He wanted to have his late-night sessions with the court.

      “Actually, it’s my understanding that you’ve been locking up over the past few weeks,” the boss said, putting two fingers to his chin. “The court has been gleaming spectacularly. That’s a certain shine that requires talent.”

      “Yes.” Kageyama bowed his head slightly. _Please don’t dock my pay, please don’t dock my pay, please don’t dock my pay—_

      “You’ve got a really strong aura coming off you…” Kageyama looked up to see that his boss looked near-terrified. _Damnit._ Kageyama _could_ be intense at times, although he never realised it until people around him pointed it out.

      “Sorry!” His boss’ head jerked slightly at the sound of Kageyama’s apology. Kageyama had shouted the apology a _lot_ louder than necessary. _He’s going to get fired at this rate…_

      “It’s fine, it’s fine!” Kageyama didn’t realise because of his own nerves, but his boss was just as much of a nervous person as he was. “Yamaguchi-kun’s already set up the court in your stead, so go over to the toilets and clean them up a little. There’s a lot that needs doing today, so good luck! You’re doing a good job, Kageyama-kun.” Yamaguchi Tadashi was one of the new guys. He’d only started a couple of days ago, but he was definitely one of the hardest-working men that Kageyama could’ve ever come across. He had tenacity like no other.

      “Thank you!” Kageyama got up, bowed his head once again and hurried out of the room. Once he had safely departed from the room, he let out a brief sigh of relief. Then, he went over to the storage closet, knowing that the time had come for him to play cleaner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18,000 yen is equal to about £110, just so you know. 
> 
> (There's a lot of numbers coming up in this note down below, so you've been warned)  
> Something else to note is that Kageyama's wages are lower than they should be, which is illegal. He works from 9am to 9pm every day (although he usually stays a lot later) and since the national wage is about 800 yen/hour, Kageyama should be making 9,600 a day. He works every day, including weekends, so every month, he should be making figures like 288,000 yen. However, he only gets paid 90,000 yen a month, although he loses one-third of it to taxes, leaving him with 60,000. He's grossly underpaid.


	3. Who's in Charge?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: the iwaoi gets very strong in this chapter. If you want to skip it, then ctrl + f and type "It was eleven p.m."

      When Oikawa had woken up, it had been with a slight headache. It wasn’t too bad though. He’d taken a shower and cleaned himself up a little. By one o’clock, he was in his living room, doing a couple of press-ups in his workout area. He had a gym where the garage was located, but he wanted to stay in the living room since he knew Iwaizumi would be coming down soon. Judging by how much energy the setter had, it was near impossible to tell that he’d been drunk just the night before. The only indicator of his drunkenness was his personality, but then again, he was _always_ like that.

      “Hey, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa hopped off the exercise mat once his boyfriend walked into the room. Judging by his bed-head, he’d only just woken up. Today was a Sunday, so he didn’t need to go into work. The only thing that Iwaizumi was wearing were a pair of joggers which hung off his waist, drawing attention to his happy trail and of course, his chiselled abs. Oikawa’s eyes ran over his boyfriend’s body appreciatively before wrapping his arms around him. “I’m sorry about last night. I put some candles on the cake. They’re blue… your favourite colour… we can light them if you want. I can apologise in a different way too…”

      “You’re sweaty. Didn’t you just take a shower?” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but he didn’t hesitate to embrace his boyfriend. There was no denying that he was still pissed at the setter for blowing him off the way he did last night. However, he still craved the affection of Oikawa, the man he’d fallen for the second they met. Oikawa had wanted to write a novel about himself (Iwaizumi had had to turn it down since the style of writing had been atrocious) but the setter had persisted. Somehow, it resulted in them going out for lunch together, and one thing led to another. Now, they were here.

      “Yeah. I’ve got to go for practice in half an hour, but I wanted to see you before I left,” Oikawa explained. “I know you’re still mad at me. I’m sorry, Iwa-chan. Forgive me?” He pulled out of the hug, giving Iwaizumi his ‘puppy-eyes’ look. Oikawa had always had big eyes, but he could make them glisten, he could make his pupils go wide and innocent… he was like the devil in disguise.

      “You really piss me off.”

      “You still love me,” Oikawa teased, planting a kiss on the editor’s cheek. Most people would’ve thought that Iwaizumi was the one who led the relationship, judging by how big his presence was, but it was actually Oikawa who pulled the strings from behind the scenes. He led everything; he did everything. Everything always played out the way he wanted it to play out. Iwaizumi was able to keep him in check most days, but it didn’t change the fact that Oikawa was still the leader. At this moment in life, he was content. Not only with himself, but with life.

      Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but he didn’t respond.

      “By the way, the cake looks amazing. Did you make it yourself?”

      Iwaizumi nodded. He’d asked his cousin Hanamaki to come around and help him make a cake since he owned a bakery. Matsukawa had been kind enough to bring some ingredients along with him in exchange for the number of Iwaizumi’s boss. Iwaizumi’s boss was a young female named Shimizu Kiyoko, who seemed to have all sorts of men wrapped around her little finger. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but admire that.

      “You’re amazing!” Oikawa kissed Iwaizumi once again, this time on the lips. Iwaizumi was a lot more caring than most people would believe. He was always looking out for the setter, making sure that he was in top condition. This time, Iwaizumi wrapped his arms around Oikawa, gently tugging the hoodie off his torso and over his head. It revealed the lean slopes of muscle which adorned Oikawa’s frame, ripples of muscle and abs and that chiselled jaw with stubble which made him look manlier than ever. Iwaizumi loved this.

      “Right now, you’re mine,” Iwaizumi growled, pushing Oikawa up against the wall and kissing along his collarbone. With one hand, Iwaizumi had both of Oikawa’s wrists secured against the wall. The setter didn’t resist. He was breathing heavily, in anticipation; in want. He wanted Iwaizumi. Oikawa could feel a tent beginning to form in his shorts. He wanted Iwaizumi to take the shorts off his body, but the editor was _clearly_ intent on punishing Oikawa for yesterday. Even if he didn’t say it, Oikawa knew what was happening.

      Every time Oikawa tried to wiggle out of his shorts, Iwaizumi would press their hips together, stopping the setter from wiggling any more than necessary. He’d put his lips up to Oikawa’s ear, whisper the tantalising phrase “I’m in charge” and start his teasing motions all over again. Nibbling along his jawline, sucking and blowing on the setter’s earlobe, tracing a path down his slender neck, doing it again and again until Oikawa felt like he’d explode from the amount of sexual tension in the room.

      “I…Iwa-chan, _please_ ,” he begged, trying to thrust his hips against Iwaizumi. Every time he tried, Iwaizumi would simply lean his hips back so that he was out of reach. This was a punishment, alright. Oikawa was going to have to work for this.

      “Oikawa,” Iwaizumi murmured, letting the setter’s wrists go at last. The editor was now pressing Oikawa’s shoulders against the wall, allowing Iwaizumi to glance down at Oikawa’s taut nipples, flushed pink against his otherwise porcelain skin. He took one into his mouth, causing the setter to let out a large groan of pleasure.

      “I—Iwa…chan…” Oikawa grabbed Iwaizumi’s hair, keeping him firmly in place. “Don’t you dare stop.” Oikawa was trying to sound threatening, but he only sounded even more erotic than he should’ve. _It should be illegal to be this attractive_ , Iwaizumi thought as he continued to tease the little nub. Oikawa was arching his back, shaking and writhing as Iwaizumi’s hand slid up to pinch the right nipple, which was currently being neglected.

      It wasn’t long before Oikawa was silently shaking, whimpering to himself as he reached his climax. “I…Iwa-chan…” The name was quiet, but Oikawa’s reaction wasn’t. He was biting his lip, trying to stop any especially loud moans from leaving his mouth as he came, trembling and shaking against the wall. He could feel the heat in his briefs, pooling as he fisted his hands into Iwaizumi’s dark hair.

      “Damnit.” Iwaizumi looked up at Oikawa, wearing a smirk on his face. He was clearly satisfied with the mess he’d made of his boyfriend. His forehead was trickling with beads of sweat, he was panting and his eyes were pulsating with desire. Iwaizumi liked making Oikawa this way. “I didn’t mean to make you come. It’s just so hard to deny you sometimes…” It had been a while since Iwaizumi and Oikawa had had a moment alone like this. Iwaizumi had been working extra shifts and Oikawa had been spending more and more nights down in the gym or at the volleyball court.

      “It’s your turn,” Oikawa eventually said, having recovered from his climax at last. He gently threaded his fingers out of Iwaizumi’s hair and grabbed both his hands. “Can we at least go to the bedroom? It’ll be impossible for you to try and take me against this wall—”

      “You’re underestimating me,” Iwaizumi grumbled. “Idiot.”

      “Nope, it’s basic science,” Oikawa quipped. “You’re shorter than me, so—”

      “Alright, now you’ve done it.” Iwaizumi picked Oikawa up, took the setter over his shoulder and carried him up the stairs. When the setter tried to protest, Iwaizumi simply swatted his behind.

      “Iwa-chan!”

      Iwaizumi smirked to himself. “You won’t need to go to practice today. You’re mine for the day.”

      “Have at me then, Iwa-chan.” Iwaizumi threw his lover onto the king-sized bed, taking a few moments to appreciate the sight. Then, Iwaizumi tugged his own joggers down so that he was fully naked. Oikawa’s smirk appeared at the sight of Iwaizumi’s erect member. “Man. It’s been too long…”

      “You talk way too much,” Iwaizumi muttered, pulling Oikawa’s shorts off. His briefs went off along with them. Oikawa had always been such a sight to behold whenever he was naked. He was tall, muscular and his stamina could rival that of a horse. When it came to sex, Oikawa was one of the most ideal partners Iwaizumi could’ve ever known.

      “What do you want me to do?” Oikawa sat up and winked at his boyfriend. “Should I rim you? I really want to rim you. Please?”

      “I want you on your knees and hands. I’m going to fuck you.” Oikawa might’ve been a little scared by Iwaizumi’s possessiveness if it wasn’t for that brief gentle expression that crossed his face. He propped himself up on his forearms, facing the window which looked out to the national park. While the blinds were down, they were slightly parted. It wasn’t wide enough that people could look in, but it wasn’t narrow enough either.

      “Be gentle,” Oikawa warned. “I’ll have to do extra practice tomorrow.”

      “We both know I don’t do gentle.”

      “Fine, fine.” Oikawa wiggled his butt at his boyfriend. “What are you waiting for? I’m getting impatient—”

      “You just came!”

      “And I want to come again.” In response, Oikawa found himself getting spanked. _Hard_. Iwaizumi’s hands were soft, but they could also deliver quite the blow. Oikawa let out a deep moan as Iwaizumi spanked him, once then twice. Lube-slicked fingers probed their way inside Oikawa, preparing the setter for what was about to come.

      “If you piss me off, I’m not going to let you come. So _behave_.” Iwaizumi’s voice was cold, dominating. He became an entirely different person when they stepped into the bedroom. Oikawa couldn’t help but _love_ this side of Iwaizumi. The side that kept him in check, the side that made him feel such _pleasure_.

      “Yes…” Oikawa was beginning to thrust himself against the pressure of Iwaizumi’s thick fingers. Iwaizumi spanked him once again. Oikawa threw his head back, letting out a cry of pleasure. “Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi scissored his fingers inside Oikawa, spreading out his lover even more.

      Once Iwaizumi decided that Oikawa was ready at last, he took his fingers out and grabbed more lube. He squeezed the bottle out over Oikawa, the cold liquid running down the setter’s most intimate parts. He shivered at the sensation of it all. He’d been teased no end by this man behind him; teased and twiddled until he felt like he’d explode. Oikawa just _knew_ that he’d probably come the second Iwaizumi finally put it in.

      “I’m ready,” Oikawa whimpered.

      “I know you are,” Iwaizumi murmured, taking the setter by the hips. He teased Oikawa’s entrance with his cock, causing the setter to buck his hips against Iwaizumi.

      “Come on, _stop teasing me_.” Oikawa was starting to become frustrated. “Just fuck me already—” Iwaizumi drove his hips into Oikawa, his length going down all at once. “ _Oh_.” Oikawa took a deep breath as he adjusted to that full feeling, wiggling about a little until he was comfortable.

      “I’m going to start moving now,” Iwaizumi warned, tightening his grip on Oikawa’s hips. He was standing right at the edge of the bed so that he could go as deep as he wanted to. Listening to the athlete’s moans had been like torture for Iwaizumi, but now he was going to take him.

      “Go ahead.” Iwaizumi began a slow thrust, slowly building momentum. But as Oikawa thrust his hips back in time, Iwaizumi was subconsciously starting to thrust faster and faster. There was a thin sweat beginning to form on Oikawa’s lean back as he arched it, letting out a guttural moan as Iwaizumi hit his prostate again and again.

      “Iwa-chan! Don’t—don’t stop,” Oikawa groaned, burying his head into the bedsheets as Iwaizumi continued to thrust. “Iwa-chan…” The nickname fell from his lips again and again with every thrust Iwaizumi made. And when Oikawa let out one final cry before coming at last, Iwaizumi was there right behind him, breathing heavily as he reached his climax. He pulled out of Oikawa after a few moments, patted his boyfriend’s backside appreciatively and walked over to the bathroom.

     “Wait, _Iwa-chan_ …” Iwaizumi turned around to face his boyfriend. “Are you taking a shower now?”

      Iwaizumi nodded. “Yeah.”

      “Let me join you!” Before Iwaizumi could protest, Oikawa had already hopped out of bed to push his boyfriend into the ensuite bathroom. “We’ll soap each other’s backs! Romantic, right?”

      Iwaizumi scoffed. As much as this man in front of him pissed him off, he lived for these moments when Oikawa would act like a kid and make him feel young again. “You’re an idiot.”

      “Love you too, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa practically clamped his sweaty body to Iwaizumi as he kissed the editor. It was slightly sloppy; their teeth clashing and their tongues meshing awkwardly, but it didn’t matter. It was a slight reminder that Oikawa was drunk and probably couldn’t kiss as expertly as he usually did. Iwaizumi didn’t care. Right now, all he cared about was taking his boyfriend in a different location: the bathroom.

***

      It was eleven p.m. when Oikawa woke up once again, this time in Iwaizumi’s arms. They’d had sex so many times that Oikawa had lost count (although, he was pretty sure the figure might’ve gone into double digits). However, it didn’t curb Oikawa’s urge to practice. He slipped out from Iwaizumi’s arms, got out of bed and quietly pulled on some exercise clothes. It wasn’t anything too extravagant, just a plain blue shirt and some loose black shorts. He picked up his volleyball bag and slipped out of the bedroom, making his way downstairs. He went into the living room, where the cake was still sitting on the table, untouched. It was such an extravagant cake — white icing, ‘Well Done!’ written in blue cursive and roses adorning the outside. It probably tasted just as delicious as it looked.

      Oikawa’s phone was also next to the cake. He was slightly shocked when he saw all the missed phone calls he had and the messages from his teammates.

 

**Where are you? It’s not like you to be late.**

**-Kuroo [Sent 14:20]**

**\---**

**How could you not turn up to practice? Akaashi said he wanted to practice that synchronised attack. He’s really upset about it, you know**

**-Bokuto [Sent 15:00]**

**\---**

***one attachment***

**Really, Tooru? You prioritized sex over coming to practice? This season’s important, you know.**

**-Ukai [Sent 17:22]**

      Oikawa gasped when he saw the attachment. It was a screenshot of an Instagram post from today. It was a picture of Oikawa snuggling up in Iwaizumi’s arms. Iwaizumi had snapped the picture without the athlete even realising. It had been captioned, ‘Spent all day with Kusokawa @boikawa’.

      Oikawa sighed. _Damnit_. He’d have to apologise to everyone tomorrow. He’d already been out of action for a while due to last year’s disastrous match against Ubugawa. He’d made up for it by thrashing them yesterday, but he couldn’t allow himself to forget how that defeat felt. He pushed his phone into his pocket, hoisted his volleyball bag into the crook of his elbow and hurried out of the house. It would only take him about twenty minutes to walk down to the Tokyo Gymnasium. After all, it was the nearest place with a volleyball court. Akaashi had gotten _really_ good ever since Oikawa’s brief absence. While Oikawa was still the best, it wouldn’t be long before someone surpassed him. He knew that. That’s why he had to keep fighting. _Maybe he should break up with Iwaizumi_.

      No. Oikawa rejected the thought before he could even begin to think about it any further. Iwaizumi was one of the most thoughtful guys that Oikawa could’ve ever met. Sure, he was a little bossy and brash. But Oikawa liked that. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to give _everything_ up for his career. He’d already given up on having friends outside of volleyball. He didn’t bother to celebrate his birthday anymore. He’d treat himself by training even _harder_. Maybe… he was being selfish by keeping Iwaizumi in his life.

      Just maybe. But Oikawa was a selfish person. He wasn’t going to stop at taking Japan by storm. He wanted the world and nothing less. Even if it meant he had to give his left leg, then so be it. He’d be damned if he stopped trying before he made it to the top.

      Was Oikawa really content? He wasn’t sure about it anymore. But… he’d keep on acting like he was. Right now, it was all he could do.


	4. Learning to Curve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima really loves to rile Kageyama up.

      “Kageyama, nice serve…” The ball went up. Kageyama ran. Right foot, left foot, right foot, _jump_. The ball fit snug in his palm before shooting right over to the other side of the court at a speed Kageyama could barely comprehend. He was starting to get better at this. In fact, his serve was even better than it had been during high school. Perhaps… _he could win_.

      He went over to the ball trolley and retrieved another ball. This one went up in the air again, slightly higher than it should’ve been. _Damnit_. Without thinking, Kageyama was able to adjust his run-up so that he could still hit the ball with precision. It made a perfect course right over the court, only for it to suddenly change course and drop.

      “Eh?” Kageyama landed and stared at the ball for a moment. There were a number of them on the other side, still trembling with Kageyama’s excitement. He’d injected his motivation into each and every one of these balls. “Did that just… _curve_?” Kageyama wasn’t sure what he’d done differently. _Was it the toss? It didn’t spin this time_ …

      Kageyama didn’t want to dwell on it for too long. He was sweaty; he felt gross. But he felt _alive_. This, _this_ was the only reason he was working at Tokyo Gymnasium. _This_ was it. It was these moments where he could run up to the net, pretend that he was the one who was the best in Tokyo, pretend that he was the one who was the best in the world. He might not be able to do this when it’s afternoon and the athletes are here, but when they’re all gone, that’s when Kageyama can claim this court as his own.

      _Spike! Serve! Save!_ He was darting around the court, retrieving balls and running until he couldn’t feel his calves. He was buzzing so much that it felt like his phone was ringing. _Wait. His phone_. Kageyama stopped, realising that his phone was in fact ringing.

      “Hello?” Kageyama was breathing down the phone, although he was trying to control it. He didn’t want to sound like those creepy serial killers from horror movies.

      “Shit. Don’t tell me you’re having another panic attack.”

      Kageyama chuckled. “No. I’m great.”

      Tsukishima clicked his tongue. “Don’t be cocky. Are you home yet?”

      “Nope. I’m working late—”

      “It’s almost midnight!”

      “Time is just a number.” With the bodhisattva expression on his face and the overhead light shining on his head, Kageyama looked like he’d stepped out of some biblical story.

      “In that case, your face is just a monster.”

      Kageyama’s expression turned into a scowl. “What the hell do you want, anyway?”

      “I wanted to invite you over to mine. You’re still in Tokyo, so you can just drive straight over, can’t you?” Kageyama could _feel_ Tsukishima raising his eyebrows. “I figure you need a drink after the day you’ve had. I got my hands on some sake.”

      “Hah. I’m the only person you have to drink sake with you.”

      Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “No, actually. I have friends, unlike you.”

      “Your waifu pillow doesn’t count,” Kageyama quipped. “Your dinosaur toys don’t count either.”

      “Shut up,” Tsukishima snarled. “I’ll kill you.”

      “I’ll be over in thirty.” Kageyama hung up before Tsukishima could have enough time to formulate a response. He had a smile on his face as he gathered the volleyballs from the ground and tipped them into the palm of his hand as he usually did. They went into the ball trolley, again and again until the court was clear of volleyballs. Kageyama jumped slightly when he heard a footstep.

      Kageyama cleared his throat. “Is… is someone here? Tsukishima?” He received no response. He stood there for a few moments, listening to see if he’d hear anything else. “Shit. It was probably me,” he said, letting out a deep yawn. “Man. I need to sleep.” He rolled the balls off into the equipment room and came out with some more polish. It was a ten-minute job at this point, polishing the court until he could see his reflection in it. He was the only one who could make it shine so brilliantly. This _was_ his court, after all. He looked after it so well…

      Once everything was done and dusted, he waved a goodbye to nobody in particular before switching off the lights and edging out of the room. He locked the door behind him and went over to the parking lot. He’d already forgotten about that footstep he’d heard. He was just focused on that sake that Tsukishima had mentioned. It had been _months_ since Kageyama had last had some alcohol. Alcohol wasn’t cheap, so Kageyama didn’t make a habit of drinking it. Right now, though… he felt like he needed it.

      Maybe if he hadn’t been so tired, he might’ve noticed that he was being watched by none other than Oikawa Tooru. He’d somehow crawled his way up the walls, Spiderman-style, and let himself in through an open window. It was then that he saw the dark-haired man, timid in appearance. He kept running and serving, running and serving, again and _again_. He’d had a tenacity that Oikawa had only ever seen in the likes of Hinata. He’d trip over himself a couple of times and miss the shots, but he was able to get most of them. He even pulled off some crazy serves that Oikawa wasn’t sure that he himself could receive. _Who is he?_

      When Oikawa slipped down to the court and looked at how much it was glistening, he found himself stepping right back off the court and heading towards the window. He’d watched the man as he cleaned the court by hand, something which appeared quite odd. _They have a buffer, don’t they? Why does he do it by hand?_ Oikawa had noticed just how _careful_ the man had been while cleaning. He’d feel bad if he just trod all over the court after watching the man do such a painstakingly careful job of polishing it. _He can go one day without practicing. It’s fine_.

      Oikawa’s biggest fear was starting to become even more eminent. He’d been fearing that Akaashi might surpass him one day, but that was starting to seem more trivial. Right now, it was beginning to look like that _nobody_ on the court could surpass him. _Who was he? What’s his name and why isn’t he on a national team?_

***

      “You never told me how that volleyball match went,” Tsukishima murmured, pouring sake into two separate flute glasses. For a librarian, he was overly fancy when it came to his alcohol. He was the kind of man who could put wine connoisseurs to shame. “What was it like seeing Kuroo in person?”

      Kageyama rolled his eyes. _Of course. Tsukishima wouldn’t be offering sake if he didn’t want answers_. “So that’s why you invited me here. You want his dick, not my company.”

      “Precisely.” Tsukishima handed his best friend the flute, which he accepted readily. Kageyama downed the sake in one go, relishing the sweet malty flavour of it. It was fresh, yet it tasted slightly sugary. He liked it.

      “Well, his hair’s ridiculous. He was subbed in during the fourth set, so I didn’t see much of his play. He plays middle blocker though, just like you did when we were in high school,” Kageyama explained, holding out his empty flute glass to Tsukishima. Tsukishima filled up the glass without argument before setting the bottle down. He took a sip from his own glass before looking up at Kageyama, who was slurping his glass of sake down. “Hey, do you have a spare bottle of this stuff? It’s amazing—”

      “I’m not made of sake,” Tsukishima snapped.

      “Man. So hostile,” Kageyama huffed. “Do you have a stick up your ass?”

      “Do you have a brain in your head?”

      “Shut up,” Kageyama muttered. “You wouldn’t know a brain if it hit you in the face.”

      “Oh, and you want sake from me?” Tsukishima snatched the flute out of Kageyama’s hand. “Not happening, asshat.”

      Kageyama’s hand went for the bottle on the table, but Tsukishima was quicker. Tsukishima returned the bottle to his side where Kageyama couldn’t reach. Now that the cleaner had no alcohol, all he could do was fold his arms and mutter to himself.

      “You’re the one who offered to give me sake.”

      “You’re the one who was thirsty enough to try and steal mine.” Tsukishima smirked. “I got this imported from Kyushu. It’s the best thing ever.”

      “Who the hell do you know in Kyushu?!”

      “People. I told you, I have friends.”

      Kageyama sighed. “I told you, idiot. Dinosaurs don’t count.”

      Tsukishima’s jaw tightened. “I don’t like dinosaurs.”

      “They don’t like you either.”

      “Get out of my house.”

      Kageyama narrowed his eyes. “Eh? I got here like five minutes ago!”

      “Yeah, that’s five minutes too long. Go on. Scurry your little ass out of here. Your presence is making my plants wilt.”

      Kageyama had been trying to irritate Tsukishima, but for some reason, he was never able to win. Tsukishima was just an asshole, both on the inside _and_ the outside.

      “In that case, I hope your plants end up like you,” Kageyama muttered as he got up to his feet and walked out of the living room.

      “What?” Tsukishima laughed. “Sexy? I wish…” Kageyama didn’t even bother to respond. He was seriously contemplating breaking his friendship with Tsukishima. _He’s so annoying_ …

      Kageyama turned around to face the smirking Tsukishima. “Die.”

      “Choke.”

      “Gladly.” Kageyama rolled his eyes. “I’m going home.”

      “I hope you crash your car,” Tsukishima quipped. “Preferably with some extra casualties.”

      “You’re such an asshole…”

      “You’re an asshole too. Why do you think I’m your only friend?” Tsukishima held up the bottle of sake. “Get your ass back over here.” Kageyama didn’t even bother to question Tsukishima. The blonde was the epitome of complex. He’d known Tsukishima eight years and he _still_ didn’t understand what was going on in his head. But as long as he kept getting his hands on good sake, Kageyama didn’t mind coming around.

      Tsukishima’s eyes brightened up as he continued to speak. “Now, tell me more about Kuroo… what’s his voice like? Is it deep? Is he loud? I’ve seen him on TV, but…”

      “He’s out of your league.”

      “Alright. I mean it this time. Go home, you fucking asshole.” Kageyama simply took the bottle of sake and poured himself another portion. He knew that he wouldn’t be going home anytime soon. _Fuck work. He’s going to chill out tonight._


	5. Meeting the Cleaner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title implies, Oikawa and Kageyama meet for the first time. <_< >_>
> 
> Also, most people reading this might know, but for those that don't, the Shinkansen is a bullet train in Japan.

      Come afternoon, Oikawa found himself standing outside of Tokyo Gymnasium. He had been hoping to be the first one there, but Hinata was there, hopping about as he waited for everyone else.

      “King!” Hinata waved in greeting. Oikawa had never understood Hinata’s penchant for that damn nickname, but he didn’t question it. He’d quickly learnt that logic didn’t work with bubbly types like him. “Where were you yesterday?”

      “Nowhere.” For a twenty-three year old, Hinata was awfully dense when it came to all things sex. It got to the point where Oikawa found himself wondering if the man had ever been on a date, honestly. He didn’t want to corrupt Hinata’s mind by telling him about what he was doing with Iwaizumi. It was easier to claim nonchalance.

      “Bokuto said he’s going to punch you when he sees you, by the way.” Hinata grinned. “I don’t know why though.”

      “I know why.” The text message from yesterday flashed into Oikawa’s mind. _Yeah, he fucked up. He shouldn’t have skipped practice_. Looking away from Hinata, Oikawa saw that the rest of the team members were approaching. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any reporters around. Oikawa had already answered their questions upon arriving, so it looked like they’d disappeared at last.

      “Asshole!” Kuroo and Bokuto sprinted towards him, both of them with their fists readied. “You made Akaashi frown!” Right when they were about to strike, Oikawa simply took a step back, causing the both of them to swing at thin air. He wasn’t trying to score himself a collection of new bruises, after all.

      “Kuroo-san. Bokuto-san.” Akaashi appeared behind the two and placed his hands on their shoulders. “It’s fine. Today’s a new day.” The man mustered a small grin. Although he was still a little sad about yesterday, it didn’t bother him. They had today to get the synchronised attack down. They’d be taking the Shinkansen to Osaka tomorrow since they had to prepare for their match with another team, Shiratorizawa. They were number one in the whole of Japan. Ubugawa had been number two, but since Seijoh had finally dethroned them, Ubugawa had gone down to number three. But Seijoh weren’t done. They wanted to take the number one spot.

      “I’m sorry, guys!” Oikawa put his hands together while pleading with his team. “Iwa-chan was annoyed because he didn’t see me, so… yeah. I’m sorry!”

      Ukai looked the entire team over, his sharp eyes sending a chill down Oikawa’s spine. “Everyone. Go inside. We’ve booked the court to practice on, so there should be some guy in there to help you get the balls out. I want to talk to Tooru for a minute.” The dark mood could be felt amongst everyone. They hurried away, not wanting to get caught up in everything. In mere seconds, they’d all gone inside, leaving Ukai and Oikawa on the outside.

      Ukai sighed. “You know what I’m going to tell you, don’t you?”

      “I know it might seem like I’m slacking, but—”

      “You _are_ slacking!” If yesterday had just been a one-off, it would’ve been fine. But Oikawa would regularly go out partying whenever he wasn’t at practice, or he’d go down to the publishing house where his boyfriend worked. _Or_ he’d be talking to reporters and garnering positive publicity for himself. He still performed exceptionally well in games, but he was beginning to slack off the court.

      “I know I’ve been a bit off lately, but… I’m sorry.”

      “Tooru. You’re an invaluable member to the team. But I don’t want a repeat of last year’s match against Ubugawa,” Ukai said. “You were meant to be practising hard during the time I took you off the starting roster. Instead, you started partying, you stopped turning up to practice as often and you weren’t following your exercise regimen. The only reason you started in Saturday’s Ubugawa match was because of Hinata, right? He insisted that you’d be up to it. And you were. You performed the quicks with good timing. But your attitude, Tooru… it’s starting to worsen.”

      Oikawa nodded.

      “Just because we won one match doesn’t mean you get to start slacking again. If I don’t think you’re dedicated enough, I won’t be putting you on the court. Akaashi has been working his _ass_ off just to become a starter on the team. He wasn’t born with natural athletic ability like you. But he’s been trying so hard I’m scared that the man’s going to hurt himself,” Ukai said, rubbing his head. “We have the Shiratorizawa match in _two days_. You need to start getting serious, Tooru. If you get too cocky, it’ll affect the entire team.”

      “Right. I’m sorry.” Oikawa wasn’t going to mention that he wasn’t slacking because he wanted to. There was a very, _very_ persistent ache in his knee that didn’t seem like it would be going away anytime soon. But he was still going to keep his place on the court. It was _his_ court.

      “Did you stretch before coming here?”

      Oikawa’s face flushed a bright red when he thought about what he’d done before coming here. Iwaizumi _had_ been planning to go to work, but when Oikawa had decided to show his brand new shorts off to Iwaizumi, the editor had opted for calling in late instead. “Well… you could say that…”

      “Ugh.” Ukai rolled his eyes, instantly able to understand what the setter was getting at. “Just… _get on the court already_. I’m going to smoke a quick one before I come in.” Oikawa nodded and hurried into the building, apologising profusely when he bumped into someone who was holding a set of keys. They clanged against the ground, but the dark-haired man was lucky enough to avoid falling along with them.

      “Ah, it’s alright—” The man’s voice caught in his throat when he realised that _Oikawa_ was standing in front of him. The same Oikawa he’d watched play volleyball so many times.

      “Hey.” Oikawa narrowed his eyes at the dark-haired man in front of him. “You look familiar. What’s your name?” Oikawa was _sure_ he’d seen this person before. He _knew_ it. Yet, the name just wasn’t coming to him. He seemed to have an athletic build, although he didn’t appear to be muscular. His blue eyes were cutting; sharp; the kind of eyes that would send chills going up his spine. His nose was slender, the way it gently sloped down to his supple lips, which were glistening just a little. Oikawa found himself wondering if the guy was wearing lip balm. He had a sharp chin, but it wasn’t stubbly. He looked quite young, actually. He couldn’t have been any older than twenty.

      “Kageyama Tobio.” His voice was quiet — in fact, he appeared quite reserved, judging by the way he seemed to avoid eye-contact with the athlete in front of him. He didn’t seem like the type of guy that Oikawa would acquaint himself with. But Oikawa was _sure_ that he’d met him somewhere. “I… I work here.”

      “Ah. Is that right…” Oikawa racked his brains, trying to think of all the times he’d seen someone with that dark hair. _Yesterday_. There was a guy who’d handed out small towels to everyone during the interval. It was him. He’d walked around the court and handed each player a warm towel. “I remember you. Tobio-chan!”

      “Please don’t call me that.” Kageyama was beginning to feel the urge to _run away_. He really wasn’t good at talking to people. Tsukishima wasn’t either — that was why he worked as a librarian. The whole ‘don’t-talk-in-libraries’ rule seemed to work for him. Kageyama was only a cleaner. A guy who occasionally handed out towels. Someone who did minor jobs around the gym. He wasn’t meant to have conversations with people, no less someone like Oikawa.

      Oikawa huffed to himself. _Why does nobody like his nicknames?_

      “Too late. I like that nickname.” Oikawa grinned. “I’m Oikawa Tooru. Japan’s best setter.” Oikawa didn’t miss how Kageyama’s jaw tightened slightly at his introduction. _Hmm… this guy’s interesting_ , Oikawa thought.

      “You’re awfully confident,” Kageyama finally managed to say. He crouched down and grabbed the keys off the ground. Sure, there was a _lot_ more Kageyama would’ve liked to say, but it would only take one complaint to get him fired from his place. Kageyama had to remain civil, even if he wasn’t sure he liked the setter that much. _Oikawa’s living the dream that Kageyama could only dream about…_

      “Confident’s one way to put it. Now, Tobio-chan. Take me to the gym!” Kageyama was half-expecting Oikawa to mount him and put some makeshift reins on him. He was talking to Kageyama as if he were some sort of _prop_.

      “I have a job to do,” Kageyama said through gritted teeth, holding up his set of keys. He was headed up to the staffroom. He needed some water and he needed it _now_. He’d managed to just about keep his sake-drinking in moderation, but he was still feeling slightly more off-his-feet than he was used to.

      “Yeah. That job is to _take me to the gym_.” Oikawa didn’t mean to be so vicious towards this guy, but Ukai had practically told him that he’d be kicked off the starting roster _again_ if he didn’t impress him today. Oikawa had to prove that he was serious.

      It was taking every last fibre of restraint in Kageyama not to slap this pompous athlete across the face. _He makes Tsukishima look tame. Such an asshole…_

      “Alright, Oikawa- _sama_ ,” Kageyama snarled, having lost his patience at last. “I’ll take you to the damn gym.”

      “Kageyama-kun?!” _Oh no_. Kageyama slowly turned around to see that his boss was standing there. He had a stern look on his face, one which was only exacerbated by the glasses on his face. They made him look like one of those strict teachers that hit students with rulers whenever they step out of line. However, this time, Kageyama was pretty damn sure that this teacher was going to hit him with a ‘You’re Fired!’ card with sparkles and fucking unicorns inside of it.

      “You’re speaking this way to a guest? That’s unbecoming of you. How can you be so rude? You’ve been dancing on thin ice these past couple of weeks…” Takeda still looked quite stern, a look which was foreign to him. “I’d like to offer my deepest apologies, Oikawa-kun—”

      Oikawa chuckled. “No, it’s fine. We know each other. Isn’t that right, Tobio-chan?” Kageyama looked around himself, unsure at first. But then he reluctantly nodded, realising that Oikawa was offering him a way out.

      “Yeah. We’re friends.”

      Takeda got a relieved look on his face. “Whew. I _thought_ it was weird for you to be so rude to a guest… alright then. Continue.” Kageyama nodded once before scurrying down the hall, Oikawa following closely behind. Once they’d gotten a safe distance away, Oikawa pulled on his arm.

      “Hey, so we’re friends now? That’s great!” He shot a grin at the worker, who was still wearing one of the most pissed-off looks ever on his face.

      “I’m taking you to the gym,” Kageyama said, trying to keep his voice calm. “That’s it.” He really wasn’t good with members of the public, _especially_ ones that could test his patience like this. The only person he could just about tolerate was Tsukishima, and even then, Kageyama found himself wanting to drown the blonde in sake most days. And then himself, because Tsukishima has some _good sake_.

      “That’s no way to treat someone who just saved your job,” Oikawa sang. “Ideally, you should be offering to take me out for a drink. In case you’re wondering, I drink sake. Lots and lots of sake.”

      “I wasn’t wondering.” Kageyama was trying to pull his arm out of Oikawa’s grasp, but he was _strong_ alright. “Let me go.”

      “But—”

      “If you don’t let me go, I’ll report this as a form of assault against a member of staff to our security guards. They’ll cart you off to a _koban_ and then you’ll be answering to the police. _Let me go_.” He wasn’t comfortable with being touched by strangers. Hell, there wasn’t much that Kageyama _was_ comfortable with. He hated human touch, human interaction, human _everything_. The only thing which he could confidently say that he could enjoy was volleyball. Oh, and his cat, Gun Gun. He was the cutest thing ever.

      Oikawa let out a ‘tch’, but he let the man’s arm go.

      “The gym’s just through that door. Your teammates are in there. Have fun.” Kageyama scuttled away at last before Oikawa could try to talk to him. Oikawa was disappointed when he realised that the dark-haired man had disappeared down the hall once again. _He was interesting_. As Oikawa walked into the gym, he was very quickly able to realise that he’d be distracted by thoughts of Kageyama for the rest of the day. _Just who is he?_


	6. Skating on Thin Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama and Tsukishima have one of their awkward conversations, but Kageyama doesn't realise that there's someone in the room with him... *cough* it's Pennywise *cough*
> 
> (I'm kidding, by the way. Or am I? :)) )

      “You’re telling me Seijoh’s at the gym? Does that mean Kuroo’s there too?!” Tsukishima was on video call with Kageyama. Right now, his cheeks were tinged with a bright pink just at the _thought_ of Kuroo. “I’m coming to Tokyo!”

      “You live in Tokyo! Dumbass!”

      Tsukishima cleared his throat before attempting his best Takeda impersonation. “You’re speaking this way to a guest? That’s unbecoming of you. How can you be so rude—”

      “Shut up! I’ll stick needles in your car, asshole!”

      “My car doesn’t have an asshole. What, are you volunteering to be my car? I’ll stick needles up _your_ asshole if you don’t watch yourself.” Tsukishima smirked. There were times where their arguing could become borderline flirting, but it was just that. Flirting. There _had_ been some sort of weird sexual tension between them during high school, but nothing had ever come of it. They’d tried kissing, only for Kageyama to accidentally burp when they were about to touch lips. Safe to say, they never tried _that_ again. Kageyama was still waiting to find out who his first kiss would be. However, considering how socially inept he was, it was beginning to look like it would never happen. He’s twenty-three years out the womb and the only person that’s ever kissed him is his mother.

      “I’m at work, you know! Don’t be so vulgar!”

      “Your face is vulgar, so shut up.”

      Kageyama growled to himself. “So… _childish_ …”

      “Maybe you need more youth, _Kage-chan_. You’re starting to look like my granddad after spicy food.” Tsukishima sighed to himself. “Hmm… I was under the impression that keeping ones virginity was meant to equal more youth…”

      “Virginity doesn’t even mean anything! Dumbass! It’s just a social construct! Or something like that… I don’t know…”

      “Yeah, of course you don’t.” Tsukishima snickered.

      Kageyama always found himself scowling, growling or just _dying_ whenever he spoke to Tsukishima. However, Tsukishima didn’t have anything on _Oikawa_. The man was the embodiment of all things _arrogant_. Kageyama had hurried over to the staffroom and phoned Tsukishima to warn him that there was someone who was more annoying than him. Of course, Tsukishima only cared about Kuroo. _What an asshole…_

      “Hey, Kageyama.” Tsukishima’s voice didn’t sound so _snotty_ now.

      “What.”

      “Are you and your family doing alright? You were muttering about it in your sleep,” Tsukishima admitted. Last night, after they’d both finished the sake to themselves (Tsukishima drank most of it) Kageyama fell asleep on Tsukishima’s chair. The blonde had decided to leave him there — after all, he was in no state to drive — and he himself fell asleep on the nearby couch. However, Kageyama had spent so long _muttering_ in his sleep that Tsukishima had been tempted to throw him out. But then, Kageyama had started sleep-worrying about his family. Bills, doctors, duties… it had made Tsukishima feel somewhat guilty. He’d always been pressuring Kageyama about coming to live up in Tokyo, but he hadn’t realised just how bad Kageyama’s family situation had become. _Damnit_.

      “It’s complicated,” Kageyama admitted. “I got hit with a pretty big fine, so it’s taken a massive chunk out of my wages. I was lucky enough not to get my pay docked, but… I’m skating on thin ice.” It was the first of the new month at last, August. Kageyama’s pay check had come through in the bank, but it had already had to go towards that eighteen-thousand yen fine. Then, there were the bills. _Lots and lots and lots_ …

      “Well, Kageyama. If you need any help, you know I’m here. It might be easier if you just stay over at mine… that way, you won’t have to spend so much on gas for your car and all. Kawasaki’s pretty far, and gas ain’t cheap.”

      “Stop being nice,” Kageyama said, cringing to himself. “It’s weird.”

      Tsukishima laughed, a genuine laugh this time. “So, you get pissed when I’m mean. When I’m _nice_ , you get pissed. What do you want from me?”

      “Death.”

      Tsukishima feigned hurt, but he couldn’t help but laugh even harder. “God, you’re such an asshole.” The blonde pretended to wipe tears from his eyes as he calmed down from his laughing fit. Tsukishima’s laughter was contagious. Kageyama found himself having a laughing fit too. He was calming down the more he laughed, a natural smile appearing on his face. The last few days had been _hell_ , so to relax like this now… it felt surreal.

      “I learned it from you, _Kusoshima_.”

      Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Hey, if you end up fucking Oikawa, please try and get Kuroo’s number off him. That man’s _fine_ …”

      “ _Fucking_?” Kageyama grimaced. “I’ll be doing no such thing. I fully intend on staying a virgin until I’m eighty-one.”

      “Why eighty-one?”

      “I won’t be alive by then.” Kageyama was pretty damn sure that his stress was beginning to eat him alive. All it would take was one faulty panic attack and _bam_! He’s dead.

      “I’d come down and beat some sense into you, but library work’s a bitch.” In the background, Kageyama could hear Tsukishima getting admonished. The voice sounded feminine. Tsukishima was saying “Yes” and “I’m sorry” every now and again, causing Kageyama to laugh at him.

      “Don’t lose your job too, idiot!”

      Tsukishima clicked his tongue. “I’ve got to go. These books aren’t going to stack themselves. And _you’ve_ got to go too. Oikawa’s ass ain’t going to slap itself.” Before Kageyama could retort, Tsukishima had rudely hung up on him.

      “Asshole,” Kageyama muttered, shoving the phone into his pocket. He got up, only to halt when he realised that he hadn’t been alone the entire time. Yamaguchi was quietly sitting down in the corner, eating his sandwich quietly. “Ah… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb your lunch!”

      Yamaguchi smiled. “No, it’s okay. I came in while you were talking,” he explained. “You’ve always seemed pretty shy. You were being pretty vocal with that guy, though.”

      “Please forget what you heard…” To say that Kageyama was mortified would be an understatement. He’d been talking about his _financial problems_ , for God’s sake. Tsukishima had told him to go _fuck_ one of the guests, Oikawa Tooru of all people. Kageyama had talked about his _virginity_. Yamaguchi had heard Tsukishima and Kageyama’s weird insulting. He’d heard _everything_ , for God’s sake. He wanted to bury himself into a hole. Forever. It didn’t help that he’d gone bright red with embarrassment.

      “Sure thing!” Yamaguchi gave Kageyama a thumbs-up. “You’re right, by the way. Virginity’s just a social construct. People value the whole idea of ‘purity’ way too much in this society. Although, it’s nothing compared to the Victorian era…”

      This conversation was only making Kageyama even more humiliated. As if sensing the dark-haired man’s discomfort, Yamaguchi handed out a piece of onigiri to him. “We’re working together, so we should get to be friends. Right?”

      “R…Right…” Kageyama took the onigiri and shoved it in his mouth, only to choke on the damn thing.

      “Oh no!” Yamaguchi got up and awkwardly patted Kageyama on the back, only for the man to dodge the contact. He didn’t care if he was choking, he _didn’t like being touched_. “Let me give you the Heimlich manoeuvre!”

      “I’ll—” **choke** “—be—” **choke** “—fine!” Kageyama spluttered rice all over himself at last after driving a fist up into his chest. He could feel it on his tongue, his throat, his _uniform_ … _damnit_.

      “I… I’m sorry.” It was official. Kageyama had managed to alienate even the new guy from him. _Goddamnit_. It wasn’t his sexual orientation that had turned Yamaguchi away from him; it wasn’t his awkwardness — it was just the fact that he was so socially inept that it was embarrassing.

      “This didn’t happen.” Kageyama slipped out of the room before anything else could happen, letting out a deep sigh of relief. He’d been expecting to bump into yet _another_ person. He’d bumped into the biggest asshole ever, then he’d ran into his boss and _now_ the new guy. He was half expecting Jesus to turn up any minute. But, he didn’t. Kageyama could finally continue on with his normal duties, like a normal person.

      At least, that was what he’d been thinking until he bumped into someone. He took a step back; his eyes widened.

      “J—J—Jesus…” Even though Kageyama knew it was rude, he couldn’t help pointing. The man had long brown hair, a slight goatee and a welcoming Jesus-like smile on his face. It _had_ to be Jesus.

      The man flushed, shook his head. “No, no. I’m Azumane,” he said.

      “Pardon?” Kageyama blinked at him. He was so _tall_ , so _tough-looking_ but his voice was so quiet that Kageyama could barely hear him. He couldn’t help but wonder if Jesus had always been so soft-spoken or if it was just the whole stress of rising from the dead once again after a couple thousand years. Considering that Jesus was meant to be a guy that told stories to thousands of people and travelled the world, Kageyama would’ve thought that he’d have a voice which practically _radiated_ authority. _Or is it a million? His history’s never been any good_.

      “I’m Azumane,” he repeated. “Azumane Asahi.”

      “There’s a man who needs help with his ear? Where is he?”

      Jesus flushed an even deeper shade of red, shook his head. “No, there’s no man.”

      Kageyama tried his best to smile. He couldn’t be caught scowling at Jesus, after all. “I’ll find the man for you, Jesus!” Before Azumane could begin to explain himself properly, Kageyama had gone off in search for the man who needed help with his ear. He never once stopped to think that maybe the man who needed help with his ear was _him_.


	7. He's the Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All of you, jog around the court twice to cool down, do some stretches and then go home. Koutarou, no gay bars. Tooru, no alcohol. Shouyou, no meat buns. Keiji, no late-night shopping. Wakatoshi, no late-night jogging. Everyone else, no being idiots. Got it?”

      “King, you’ve been playing a lot better than usual today,” Hinata said, grinning at the setter. “Your tosses are getting quicker and quicker. If only there was some precision…”

      “Shut up,” Oikawa muttered.

      “He’s right. You did a good job.” Ushijima nodded at Oikawa. Everyone on the team had come to realise that Ushijima didn’t usually sugar-coat things. Whenever he said something, it was the truth. Or at least, what he _believed_ to be the truth.

      “Yeah. It’s nine o’clock now,” Ukai said, clapping his hands to draw everyone’s attention. “All of you, jog around the court twice to cool down, do some stretches and then _go home_. Koutarou, no gay bars. Tooru, no alcohol. Shouyou, no meat buns. Keiji, no late-night shopping. Wakatoshi, no late-night jogging. Everyone else, no being idiots. Got it?”

      “But… but…” Hinata was looking at his hands and then up at Ukai. “My… my meat buns…”

      Bokuto looked down at his feet, then up at Ukai. “My… my gay men…”

      “My alcohol…” Oikawa folded his arms in annoyance. He’d been planning to go share some sake with his boyfriend once he got home. The match wasn’t for another _two days_.

      Akaashi looked down at his volleyball shoes. “But… I need new shoes…” Ushijima was the only one who didn’t say anything. He simply nodded and began to jog around the court, like Ukai had ordered. Everyone else was still standing around, slightly annoyed by Ukai’s demands.

      “You have thousands!” Kuroo looked at the setter in disbelief. “I’m not kidding, guys. He has a whole room _dedicated_ to shoes. Do you have some sort of sexual fetish or…”

      “No. I just like shoes,” Akaashi said. “Same way you like blondes.”

      Kuroo raised his eyebrow at the setter. “Oya?”

      “Oya oya.”

      Bokuto popped his head up. “Oya oya oya—”

      “Start jogging before I make all of you run thirty laps around the court!” Ukai ran a hand through his hair as the athletes finally began to jog, leaving aside their arguments for later. Ukai could be _scary_ when he lost his temper. He’d once made the entire team run from Suga Shrine to the gym because they’d spent too much time arguing. (That twenty-minute full speed run had been _hell_ , by the way. Reporters followed them for the entire duration—or at least, they _tried_ to. They eventually had to switch to cars since the athletes were moving so quickly.)

      Once the athletes had completed their jogs and stretched their muscles out sufficiently, they began to file out through the exit. Oikawa walked out along with them, but then he excused himself to go to the toilet.

      “If you even look slightly drunk tomorrow, you’re not playing,” Ukai threatened before hurrying down to catch up with the rest of the team. Oikawa simply rolled his eyes before walking back down to the gym. He wanted to see that player again. The guy he’d seen playing yesterday had been _amazing_.

      Oikawa had been hiding amongst all the chairs when the player walked in at last. He’d taken his time about it — Oikawa had been crouching there for so long that he felt like he was about to die — but it had been worth it. Oikawa held back a gasp when he realised just who it was. Kageyama Tobio, the awkward-looking guy he’d met earlier. He hadn’t been able to tell yesterday since the room had been so dimly lit, but now, all the lights were on. He could see Kageyama as clear as day. _Hopefully he doesn’t notice…_

      “Man. Can’t athletes clean up after themselves? The trolley’s right there…” Kageyama let out a deep sigh as he began to scoop up the numerous balls which they’d all left lying about. Hinata had suggested that they pick the balls up since they all used them, but Kuroo had responded that the gym had people to do that for them. Kageyama didn’t seem too happy to be doing it right now, though. He had a scowl on his face. Oikawa watched the cleaner with fascination as he scooped the balls up into the curve of his hand and slung them upwards into the trolley. He moved well, _really_ well.

      It wasn’t long before all the balls had been taken off the court. Kageyama appeared to be muttering to himself, although Oikawa couldn’t hear what was being said. Then, he picked up a ball and shouted out one phrase to himself. “Kageyama, nice serve!” Oikawa was tempted to shout it back when he saw the look on his face. That look of utter concentration, focus that could rival even his… this was the look of a pro. Someone even _bigger_ than Oikawa.

      Kageyama tossed the ball up into the air, ran up and hit a big serve. It smacked right up against the wall, missing the court entirely. He’d used just a little too much strength. But Oikawa was still amazed. Kageyama wasn’t what you’d call muscular, yet he seemed to have more strength than the likes of Asahi and even _Bokuto_. This guy was strong.

      “Shit,” Kageyama muttered. He pulled off his shirt in order to prevent sweating all over it, talking to himself at the same time. Kageyama liked to think out loud when he was alone. “I’m not focusing because of that guy. Ugh. I keep seeing his face when I try to serve.”

      _Is he talking about Oikawa?_ Oikawa’s eyes widened slightly in interest, but he didn’t reveal himself. He wanted to keep observing this man until the end. Judging by the murderous look in his eyes, he _definitely_ wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. Also, now that Oikawa could see his physique… he was by no means _unfit_. In fact, he actually looked pretty _good_. There were the tell-tale signs that there’d once been a nice-looking six pack there, now that Oikawa thought about it. Suddenly, Oikawa knew that he wouldn’t be needing any sake tonight. He was getting a lot of inspiration just from watching this guy.

      Kageyama kept running up, again and again. Each time, he pulled off serves that were strong. The more he did, the less that went out. They were all strong and aimed towards the corners. It didn’t look like he could make his serves go up front yet, but he still had quite a strong serve. Oikawa should’ve been bored after watching all this repetitive serving for what felt like an hour, possibly two, but he _wasn’t_. He wanted to get up and join Kageyama, but he’d seen just how much the cleaner disliked him. He didn’t want to risk Kageyama going home. He wanted to get as much inspiration from this cleaner as possible.

      Finally, Kageyama seemed to be slowing down.

      “Maybe I should try the curve serve…” Oikawa’s eyes widened at the sound of that. _Curve serve?_ He edged forwards slightly, trying not to draw attention to himself. Kageyama ran up as usual, but the toss was slightly further ahead. He took bigger steps, bigger strides, before jumping up and tapping the ball with his hand. It shot off towards the other side of the court… but then, it curved to the left without any warning before _dropping_.

      Oikawa couldn’t hold back the gasp of disbelief that left his lips. He was _sure_ that it had been a normal jump serve, but it had just curved out of _nowhere_. That wasn’t normal. “Jesus Christ…”

      “Ah!” Kageyama messed up his landing. He stumbled and landed on his backside rather than his feet. “Who’s there? Reveal yourself!”

      “I’ve been discovered.” Oikawa stood up and walked out onto the court, wearing a leisurely grin on his face. The fear on Kageyama’s face flickered into irritation for a moment, but then something darker than fear appeared. It was the thin line between terror and irritation that represented Kageyama’s expression at that moment.

      “Why… why are you here?” He felt uncomfortable. He suddenly felt like a massive spotlight had been cast on him, and now he was being scrutinised. His body had been getting hot from all the running and jumping, but now he felt like he was frozen. He’d had some sort of creeping feeling like someone had been watching him, but he’d been able to brush it off as his usual nerves. But _this_ … _this_ was unbelievable. Wasn’t this stalking?

      “I was observing you,” Oikawa said bluntly. “You and your home runs.”

      “I’ve been in here for one hour, forty-six minutes. Nobody’s come in, nobody’s come out. You’ve been watching me for that long?” He rushed towards his shirt and pulled it back on, desperate to cover himself in the presence of someone like _Oikawa_. He could barely believe that the brunette had been watching him like that for so long. _This is unbelievable._ What if… what if Oikawa had noticed the marks on his body? The marks that nobody else had ever seen?

      “That’s an interesting technique, that curve serve…”

      “Stop it.” Kageyama hurriedly put the balls back in the trolley, not doing it with the usual precision that he usually did. “Just _stop it_ , Oikawa-san.” Kageyama didn’t know what it was, but something about Oikawa put Kageyama on edge. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. For some reason, his brain was telling him to _avoid this man_.

      “Wait, wait. I’m not trying to do anything…” Oikawa reached out his hand to take the ball out of Kageyama’s hand, only for the dark-haired man to flinch away from him.

      “Don’t!” Usually, Oikawa would’ve kept pushing, but even _he_ wasn’t dense enough to miss the fear in Kageyama’s voice. This wasn’t just nerves; Kageyama was seriously afraid. Why, Oikawa didn’t know, but he knew when to stop pushing. _Did I really make that bad of a first impression?_ He took a step back from the cleaner, who looked like he was close to tears.

      “Tobio-chan?”

      “Go home. Please,” Kageyama said, his voice now quieter than it had been before. It was shaky; his hands were trembling so much that he couldn’t even hold the ball properly. It dropped out of his hands and rolled onto the ground. “I can’t lock up if there’s still people in the building.”

      “Wait, I—”

      “Go home,” he snapped, only to slap a hand over his mouth moments later. He seemed a _lot_ more conscious of what he was saying now. It was strange. This wasn’t the same Kageyama who had snapped and called him _Oikawa-sama_ earlier. This was different. He seemed so _afraid_. Oikawa wanted to change that, but it didn’t look like his being here would help the cleaner. He only seemed to be making Kageyama more nervous than necessary.

      “Alright.” Oikawa finally gave up and walked towards the door. Looking back, he saw that Kageyama was beginning to visibly relax. It made his heart twinge a little. _Does he really scare Tobio-chan so much?_

      Once Oikawa had walked out at last, Kageyama let out a deep breath before letting the nervous tears come out at last. He wasn’t even crying for any specific reason. It was just something that _happened_. The tears would sidle out from his tear ducts, they’d make his cheeks wet and they’d make his eyes look all sore. He’d had such a bad day. He’d almost gotten yet another negative with his boss, the new guy had heard his conversation with Tsukishima and fucking _Jesus_ had lied to him about a man who needed help with his ear. He'd searched the entire building four times and found no-one that needed help with their ear. Today had just made him a nervous wreck of emotions, sadness and all things madness. He wiped his tears away, breathing heavily as he blinked up at the bright lights. _Social anxiety sucks_ …

***

      Oikawa couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened for the entire time he was jogging. Kageyama had looked so focused, yet at peace when he was practicing his serves… but then the second that Oikawa had broken the peace, Kageyama had appeared _scared_. Oikawa thought it had been the shock, but it seemed more like Kageyama had been scared of _him_. Oikawa had been told by his teammates that he was an _idiot_ or an _asshole_ , but he’d never been told that he was scary. Was he? He wasn’t sure. But… he couldn’t forget what had happened in there. He _couldn’t_.

      Iwaizumi’s car was in the driveway when Oikawa made his way back. He let out a deep sigh before walking into the house. It was getting close to twelve a.m., but Iwaizumi was still awake. Oikawa could hear bustling in the kitchen. There was also a slice of cake on a plate. Another slice had gone, so Oikawa assumed that the plated slice was for him. He couldn’t eat right now though. He felt too _nervous_.

      “Hey.” Iwaizumi walked into the room, smirking over at his boyfriend. He was in nothing but a pair of snug boxers and _socks_. Wait, _socks_? They weren’t just plain ankle socks either. They were knee-high furry _socks_. It looked more strange than it did sexy.

      “Hey.” Oikawa gulped. Iwaizumi walked towards him and grabbed him by the waist. His hands were warm; so warm that it felt like Oikawa had just been touched by a human fireplace.

      “I’ve been waiting for you,” he murmured, his tone dark.

      “Wait, wait. We already did it today,” Oikawa insisted. “ _And_ the day before.” As much as Oikawa loved sex, he didn’t want to keep doing it again… and _again_ … and _again_. Iwaizumi’s libido couldn’t be competed with. It just _couldn’t_.

      “Every day’s a new day.” Oikawa was trying to resist the urge since he _knew_ that he needed to talk to his boyfriend about his match in Osaka, but the smouldering look in Iwaizumi’s eyes and the noticeably large tent in Iwaizumi’s dark boxers had him. He let Iwaizumi pull him upstairs, right up into the bedroom and they began the same rhythm again, the one which had both of them whimpering and groaning until they reached their releases. Again, again and again until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

      He’d been with Iwaizumi for three long years. In those three years, they’d argued, kissed and fucked one another. But they’d never really connected, had they? With their busy schedules, it wasn’t often that they got to settle down with one another and actually _talk_. Usually, they’d just have sex, talk a little and then go to work. That was all they ever did. Oikawa couldn’t help but wonder whether if there was meant to be more to a relationship than that. Because… it was starting to feel just a little unfulfilling.


	8. Running to Osaka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is what you would call a bit of a 'filler chapter'. The boys (sorry, MEN) are assembling at the train station, getting ready to leave.

      Oikawa was able to make it to the train station in time. Since he’d been worked so hard last night, he’d woken up late, but through some sort of miracle, he’d made it to the train station at the same time as everyone else.

      “You look like ass,” Kuroo remarked. “I’m not talking Akaashi-level ass. That would be heavenly. I’m talking seventy-nine year old grandpa-level ass.”

      Oikawa rolled his eyes so far back that he felt like they’d go into the back of his head. “Fuck you, Kuroo.”

      Kuroo chuckled. “I thought you had a boyfriend, Mr I’m-So-In-Love.”

      “Wait, wait. Backtrack,” Bokuto said, poking his head into the conversation. “Why are we mentioning Akaashi’s ass?”

      “Yes. Why _are_ you mentioning my ass?” Akaashi walked over to the small group of athletes that had now formed.

      “Because it’s nice,” Kuroo said. “Duh.”

      “He said that without hesitation…” Terushima Yuuji made his entrance, looking over at the group of gay athletes with an intrigued gaze. “What, are you all planning a fourgy?”

      “You’re all disgusting.” Ukai walked over to the group as well, just as grumpy as he usually was. “Can’t you all go one day without talking about sex or _something_?”

      “Shh, he’s just mad because he’s craving some of that Take-D,” Kuroo mock-whispered, earning himself a shoulder hit from Ukai. It was worth it though, since all the athletes were laughing. Ukai wasn’t even _trying_ to hide it. He gazed at the owner of the gym with want in his eyes _every time_ he came around to see how they were all doing.

      “Kuroo, do you fancy running all the way to Osaka? From here, it would be… hmm… if my calculations are right, just over a hundred hours.” Ukai grinned, although this was no normal grin. This was one of his calculating grins. “What do you say?”

      “I can’t run for that long!”

      “So don’t run your mouth for that long,” Ukai snapped. “Now, let’s go to the landing. We need to be prepared to get on. I hope you boys are ready—”

      “We’re _men_ ,” Terushima interrupted.

      “Yes. Manly men,” Nishinoya added, slapping a hand to his chest.

      “Men of the menniest men,” Hinata said, including himself into the conversation.

      “You look like a prepubescent child,” Kuroo drawled.

      “Hey!” Hinata tried to fly-kick Kuroo, but the rooster-headed blocker moved out of the way, causing Hinata to fall over instead.

      “Oi! All of you, stop messing about!” Ukai looked like he was genuinely done with this team. There were some days where he thought about how he’d leave the team and move to a small place, somewhere like Miyagi Prefecture when he successfully managed to seduce Takeda into his bed. It remained nothing but a fantasy though. _Damnit_.

      “Sorry, Coach.” Kuroo sheepishly grinned at Ukai while brushing his hair back. “I’ll keep these hooligans in line.”

      “You _are_ a hooligan, Kuroo-san.”

      “Not now, Akaashi. You see, this is the age of a new age. Today… this is the day that we create a legacy. We walk into Osaka, the reporters swarm over us… _that_ , my friends… _that’s_ our legacy.” Kuroo was looking up to the sky, trying to sound inspirational. “So… let’s go out there and do our best.”

      “Hey, Kuroo,” Tendou said, “you’re acting more like the captain than the actual captain.”

      Oikawa folded his arms. “Hey! I can be a captain too!”

      “You are the captain…” Somehow, everyone managed to say that in sync.

      “Well, today,” Oikawa began to say, “we journey out to Osaka—”

      “Our train’s at the platform now,” Ukai said, rushing forwards. “Let’s go, guys!”

      Oikawa was slightly peeved that he didn’t get to give his speech, but it didn’t matter. He’d get to give his speech when they got on the train. Either way, today would be a _long_ day. They were staying in an inn overnight, and then they were going to go play Shiratorizawa in the Osaka Municipal Central Gymnasium. The crowd was going to be _big_. That much was certain.

      But that’s why Oikawa has to win — because he’s being watched. If he loses, even just _once_ , he’ll have the whole of Japan watching as he falls.

      That’s why his knee can’t give out. Not now.


	9. Arachnids and Assholes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While cleaning up in the spectator area, Kageyama comes across something unexpected...  
> *dun dun DUN*

      Kageyama was relieved when he saw that there were no Seijoh members walking around the gym. He’d been feeling nervous the whole time he’d been driving to work, so nervous that he almost ran a red light because he was too tense to pull down on the brakes. Now that there were none of them around, he could finally _relax_.

      First of all, he had to go clean up the spectator area, since it wasn’t uncommon for kids to leave their sweet wrappers and little action figures lying about. It was more or less spotless, considering that it had only been Seijoh in the gym yesterday, but there _was_ one spider that had made its way in. So, Kageyama put down his rubbish bag and went towards the spider, waiting until the moderately-sized arachnid crawled onto his outstretched palm. He then rushed towards the nearest window and set it down on a nearby tree branch. It stood to attention for a few moments, looking directly at the sun above it. Then, it shook its legs off and scuttled away from him, scuttling until it was out of sight. Kageyama allowed a small smile to cross his face before going back over to his rubbish bag, looking for more rubbish to dispose of. There were a _lot_ of things that scared Kageyama, but spiders wasn’t one of them. He’d always been quite fond of animals. They weren’t always fond of him, but Kageyama found them easy to understand. As long as you keep a gentle hand and some snacks with you, animals will make the effort to like you.

      Just when Kageyama thought that he was done, he spotted a phone lying on the seat. It looked _expensive_. It was rose gold and it might as well have been brand new, considering how the screen glistened so beautifully even while shielded from the sun. It didn’t take him long to figure out that it was a Seijoh phone. Tentatively, he picked it up, holding it as if it were some sort of poisonous item. It felt too _rich_ for someone like him to be holding. It flickered up with a notification. When Kageyama realised who was on the lock screen, he almost _dropped_ the thing. It was Oikawa holding up a trophy. The same Oikawa who had antagonised him yesterday. The same Oikawa that Kageyama didn’t want to be around.

      “Damnit,” he muttered to himself, pocketing the phone and continuing on with his duties. He knew that Seijoh would be coming back to this gym soon, so he could just pass it on to the setter when the time came. As much as he would’ve liked to check the device out, if Takeda came in and saw Kageyama using a phone, _especially_ one that didn’t belong to him, he’d get in trouble once again. It could wait.

      He hurried down from the spectator area and out of the room. Yamaguchi was there, standing with a couple of athletic-looking people.

      “Hey, Kageyama-san. Is the court ready?”

      Kageyama nodded. “Go ahead.”

      The brunette grinned. “Alright, guys. I’ll take you through.” He disappeared into the gym with the group of athletic people, leaving Kageyama on the outside. He made his way over to the room with all the exercise equipment inside, like treadmills and cross-trainers. There _were_ some people in there, but they didn’t seem like they were in a talking mood. _Whew_. Kageyama kept to himself, shining the mirrors until they looked brand new and then making sure the water dispenser was topped up. He went around, cleaning up spills and wiping down machines after people had finished using them. Maintaining the large room took quite a bit of time out of his day, but he was grateful for it. He enjoyed the cleaning; he enjoyed not having to think. But he _wasn’t_ enjoying the music that was playing on the speakers. It was the kind of trash that he wouldn’t subject his worst enemy to (although, Kageyama wasn’t really sure if he had an enemy in the first place).

      Kageyama was kept busy for the rest of the day, cleaning up both on the outside _and_ the inside of the building. One kid ended up smashing a window, leaving Kageyama to clean up the mess. Another one threw up, right on the court that Kageyama had polished so painstakingly. It irritated him how the public could leave _so much mess_ lying around, but he didn’t allow himself to angst about it too much. He simply cleaned it all up, again and again until night arrived and everyone began to leave. It was then that he finally got to go to the staffroom and eat _something_. He didn’t have much in his bento. There was a ham sandwich, some sliced eggs and mushy peas. He’d devoured the entire thing within seconds.

      “You look like you’re enjoying that.” Yamaguchi grinned at Kageyama. Kageyama jerked in his seat when he realised that Yamaguchi was in the room. _Man, that guy doesn’t have a presence…_

      “Y…Yeah.”

      “It was pretty busy today, don’t you think? Loads of spectators and people on the court. Man, high-schoolers are pretty intense…” Yamaguchi let out a whistle. “It was fun though.”

      Kageyama was about to respond, but then his ringtone went off. _Wait, that’s not his ringtone_. It was the Seijoh phone. The ringtone wasn’t any ordinary ringtone either — it was a song. A very _vulgar_ song. Kageyama was fumbling about in his pockets, his face going bright red as the lyrics “Fuck me, hump me” continued to play on. Yamaguchi’s eyes were wide with disbelief — he couldn’t believe that the very-much timid Kageyama could listen to something like that — but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t _need_ to. Kageyama was embarrassed enough.

      He finally managed to fish the phone out of his pocket, despite his shaking hands, and declined the call. It had been from a guy called ‘Iwa-chan’, complete with heart eye emojis. Before Yamaguchi could notice what kind of phone it was, he pushed it back into his pocket. _If Yamaguchi thinks that Kageyama’s stealing phones, it won’t look too good for him_.

      “You have bad luck with social situations, right?” Yamaguchi’s shock had now dissipated into amusement. _Heh?_ Kageyama was shocked that Yamaguchi wasn’t laughing at him or something similar. If that had happened during his high school years, he’d have been punched by his senpais for having his phone on during volleyball practice.

      “You could say that,” Kageyama responded. He was still quiet; still blushing harder than anything. _Can’t the earth just swallow him up already?_

      “I’m the same. During my interview for this job, I completely messed up my introduction and I even ended up spilling water all over the boss. It was pretty disastrous…” Yamaguchi was beginning to blush at the memory itself. “I wasn’t expecting to get the job, but he said he saw potential in me. So, here I am!”

      “That’s worse than my interview,” Kageyama admitted. During _his_ interview, he’d mumbled his way through the entire thing and he’d even forgotten to add an honorific to the boss’ name — which was one of the most basic rules about Japanese itself. But _spilling water on the boss_ … Kageyama had been lucky enough not to mess up that badly.

      “I promise, I’m not going to judge you for anything.” Yamaguchi chuckled. “I know a guy like you; he’s my best friend. He’s always been really, _really_ bad in social situations. All he ever does is avoid human interaction while playing games. He’s a programmer. I think you two would get on, you know.”

      Kageyama _really_ wanted to stop being nervous. This guy seemed really friendly. Talkative, but friendly. He tried to muster up a smile before nodding at the brunette in front of him.

      “Yeah. Maybe.” It frustrated him that he couldn’t even make his way through one sentence without stuttering or pausing or _something_. He missed the days where he’d been confident, both in himself and his skills. But junior school and high school had treated him pretty damn badly. That’s why he’s the way he is today.

      Yamaguchi was about to respond, but then that _dreadful song_ came on again. Kageyama couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was going through Oikawa’s mind when he set this song as his ringtone. Kageyama had been expecting Yamaguchi to make a shocked expression this time, but Yamaguchi just burst into laughter. “Maybe you should answer that.”

      “Yeah. I—I’ll be back.” Kageyama got up and hurried out of the room, his heartbeat racing as he made his way over to a secluded area. It was the same ‘Iwa-chan’ calling once again. He would’ve put the phone on mute, but he didn’t know how. He’d never used a device this _advanced_. So, he stood there and waited until the call notification disappeared. Then, he looked at the phone once again. It was protected with a PIN. Kageyama wasn’t planning to use it though, so he simply pressed random sticky-out metal parts until a notification came up, asking if he wanted to turn the phone off. Once he’d switched it off, he pocketed it once again and hurried back into the staffroom, where Yamaguchi was casually sipping on a bottle of water.

      Yamaguchi raised an eyebrow. “Everything good?”

      “Y—Yeah.” Kageyama nodded. He looked up at the clock, which was beginning to near half-past nine. It was the time he’d usually go and practice in the gym. Yamaguchi’s gaze followed Kageyama’s, the brunette’s eyes widening when he realised what time it was.

      “Ah, my shift’s over!” He grabbed his bag from where it was hanging and slung it over one shoulder. “I’ll miss my bus if I’m not careful. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kageyama-san!”

      Kageyama nodded. The brunette disappeared through the door at last, leaving Kageyama on his own. Somehow, after what had happened in the gym last night, he didn’t feel up to practicing in the gym. When he’d gotten home that night, he’d been relieved upon discovering that his mother was asleep. Because of her condition, fibromyalgia, it made it extremely difficult for her to rest since she was constantly in pain. But tonight… she’d been fast asleep by the time Kageyama returned. That had improved Kageyama’s mood a lot, although he hadn’t been able to take his mind off what had happened with Oikawa.

      Kageyama dialled Tsukishima’s number. The blonde picked up after the first few rings.

      “Hey, Tsukishima.”

      “You called me just to say hey?” His voice was dry, sarcastic as per usual. “What a waste of minutes.”

      “I need your help,” Kageyama began to say. “I’ve got something and I don’t know what to do with it.”

      Tsukishima gasped. “Oh, Lord! Have you got your first ever boner?”

      Kageyama’s face melted into a glare. “No.”

      “Ah, what a shame…” Tsukishima clicked his tongue. “Well, whatever it is, I’m at home tonight if you want to drop by.”

      Kageyama sighed. “Yeah. I will.”

      “And no, you’re not having any sake.”

      “I’ll be the judge of that. See you in thirty.”

      “Wait, asshole, you’re not the judge of anything—” Kageyama hung up on him before he could finish speaking. In response, he received a barrage of angry calls from Tsukishima, which he ignored as he did one last walk around the empty building before going over to his court. The people had been kind enough to return all their volleyballs to the ball trolley, giving Kageyama a _lot_ less work to do. He rolled it into the equipment room, took out his polish and cloth and began to scrub down at his court until its brilliant shine returned once again, just as bright as before. Kageyama was good at cleaning. It satisfied him, seeing dirty things become clean and new-looking. That was why he put up with his low wages and long hours.

      Once everything was to his liking, he turned the lights off and made his way out of the building, making sure to lock up behind him. He then swung himself into his car, turned on the ignition and sped in the direction of Tsukishima’s house.

      It wasn’t too long before Kageyama was pulling up outside of the modern house, a house which seemed too big for only one person. He got out of the car and walked towards the front door. Before he could even knock, Tsukishima was already swinging the front door open. He went to punch Kageyama in the face, but he was able to step out of the way. This was what they always did — Tsukishima would try and punch Kageyama, only to fail miserably. He’d managed it once, but that was when Kageyama had been too tired to even realise what was happening. Tsukishima had spent the rest of the evening feeling guilty about it.

      “Don’t hang up on me,” Tsukishima said, his expression dark. “You’re _not_ drinking my sake—”

      “Not even in exchange for Kuroo’s number?”

      Tsukishima’s facial expression brightened up. “Hey, _now_ you’re speaking my language. Come on in.” He even stepped aside, allowing Kageyama to come in.

      “You’re such an asshole,” Kageyama muttered as he walked into the house, slipping off his shoes as he entered. The two of them went into Tsukishima’s living room, where the fireplace was blazing. There was a bottle of freshly-chilled sake on the table, along with two cups. It was obvious that Tsukishima had been planning to let Kageyama have some, even if he insisted otherwise.

      Once the two of them had settled down and had some sake, Kageyama began to speak. “So. You remember Oikawa-san. He left his phone in the spectator area, and—”

      “Wait, wait, wait. You’ve got an _athlete’s phone_. Not just any athlete, but _Oikawa’s_. One of _the_ most famous athletes in Japan.” Tsukishima’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “He just left his phone lying about?”

      “Yes. I’m not sure what to do about it.”

      “Well… you said that Oikawa’s an even bigger asshole than I am, right?”

      _Asshole’s an understatement_ , Kageyama bitterly thought. He didn’t speak the words though; he just replied with a simple “Yeah.”

      “Sell his number. There are some _really_ thirsty people out there who would probably be willing to pay thousands for that man’s number. Then, sell the rest of the numbers on there. Let’s say you get fifty-thousand per number. They’ve got twelve players. That’s six-hundred thousand. Close to a million yen, Kageyama.” At the sound of a _million_ , Kageyama’s eyes went wide. He was thinking about all the possibilities. _He can finally pay for his mother to have better medication, better medical treatment…_

      “A million…”

      “A million,” Tsukishima affirmed. The blonde knew that his best friend had been having financial problems for quite some time, so this could be his chance. If Kageyama was able to pull it off, then he’d stop overworking himself and finally learn how to _relax_.

      “I don’t know,” Kageyama eventually said. “I don’t even have the PIN to this thing.” He pulled out the device and showed it to Tsukishima.

      “Oh, this will be a cinch.” Tsukishima typed in the simplest PIN he could think of — 1234. It didn’t work. So, he tried the next one he could think of — 4321. This time, it unlocked the phone. Tsukishima smirked down at the device before placing it back into Kageyama’s hand. “This guy’s always struck me as the kind of person to say something like _oh, I put the easiest PIN in reverse, nobody can guess that_. Well, guess what? I did!”

      “Alright, Dinosaur-san. Don’t start roaring, you’ll awaken the pterodactyls.”

      Tsukishima clicked his tongue. “Shut up. You look like you came from a graveyard. If you go too long without blinking, flies will flock to you because they think you’re dead.”

      Kageyama stared at Tsukishima. “That didn’t make any sense…”

      “Your _face_ doesn’t make any sense.” He smirked.

      “You’re so childish!” He turned away from the smirking Tsukishima and took another sip from his flute of sake. It was cool, sweet in his mouth. He liked the taste of it. _Delicious_.

      “Seriously, though. Search the phone, see what you can sell. Addresses are a big yes too. The media will lap that shit up, I tell you.” Tsukishima was beginning to show his devious side. He had an evil smirk on his face. “Maybe you could sell the phone itself. That’s a new model. Once you’ve got all the information worth selling, do a factory reset and sell the phone online for half the shop price. It’s an import from America; it goes for about two-thousand dollars… I think? That would be about two-hundred thousand yen, although since you’d be selling it for half the price, that would be a hundred thousand… so, if you add up all the possible profits, that’s over a million yen. Just from one phone.” Kageyama had been getting lost in all of Tsukishima’s calculations and numbers, but it didn’t take a genius to understand the end results. It was a _lot_ of money. He’d be able to help his family out a _lot_ better if he had that kind of money. But…

      “Isn’t that all a crime? Selling information, selling stolen items… I could go to jail for that. It’s dishonest.”

      Tsukishima winked. “It’s only a crime if you get caught. No-one’s going to suspect shy ol’ Kageyama to be committing crimes, right? He was just desperate to help his family… he didn’t know what he was doing, he wasn’t even _aware_ that it was wrong… you claim ignorance, Kageyama. That’s what you do. Get the money and claim ignorance. Chances are, Oikawa’s just going to buy a new phone and forget about it. Go for it!”

      If those words had been coming from anyone else but Tsukishima, Kageyama would've disregarded them entirely and returned the phone to Oikawa. But knowing that Tsukishima had a degree in law, making him more than a qualified lawyer… it somewhat soothed Kageyama's worries.

      “It’s tempting,” Kageyama eventually said. He thought back to all the nights he’d heard his mother crying, his father trying to soothe her pain… if he had the money, he could pay for better medication to stop her feeling so much _pain_. He could help his parents. They’d loved him even when he felt like nobody else had, so he _had_ to. “But… where do I start?”

      “Alright. We go to TMZ Japan and tell them that we’re willing to sell them information about Seijoh. We see what figure they offer us. It could be even _higher_ than fifty-thousand. You know, they’ve been trying to get their hands on that information for ages…”

      “Tsukishima. Why do you know all of this?”

      Tsukishima took a sip from his sake and smiled. “I’m omniscient,  _Kage-chan_.” The nickname grated on Kageyama's nerves slightly, but he chose to disregard it. It didn't hold as much malice as Kageyama would've expected.

      “You’re scary.” Kageyama shifted to the right of the couch, casting a ‘you’re-crazy’ look over at the blonde. He smirked in response.

      “Thanks!”

      “It wasn’t a compliment.”

      Tsukishima was still smirking. “I can sort out some ways to hide our identities. I’ll have to go to _him_ about it though… ugh…”

      “Don’t be so mean about your brother—”

      “Shut up.” For some reason, Tsukishima _hated_ to speak about his brother. In all the eight years that Kageyama had known Tsukishima, he’d never once met Tsukishima’s brother in the flesh. He’d heard about him in conversations and seen _pictures_ of him, but he’d never actually met Tsukishima’s brother.

      “Fine, fine.”

      “Anyway. We’ve got a long night ahead of us. It’s time to make money, Kageyama.” He held up his flute of sake. “To money.”

      “To money.” Kageyama and Tsukishima clinked flutes, only for both of them to break simultaneously. They looked down at the broken shards of glass on their feet, then up at the liquid that had spilt all over their trousers. Then, they looked at one another, bellowing one single phrase simultaneously.

      “Fuck!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's curious, Oikawa's ringtone is 'Deepthroat' by Cupcakke.  
> Also, the numbers are kind of just made up for dramatic effect. No idea if people would realistically pay that much for celebrity information, but oh well ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	10. Path to Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa wants to phone Iwaizumi, but there's one problem: he can't find his phone.

      “Hey, Kuroo.” Oikawa rubbed sleepy dust out from the corners of his eyes. He’d slept well, _really_ well. He usually had trouble with sleeping the night before a match, but he’d done pretty well this time around. Looking over at a nearby clock, he saw that it had just hit one o’clock in the afternoon. They’d made it to the inn pretty late, but it was fine since they didn’t have their match until five. Four hours was more than enough time to get changed, eat something and go to the venue. “Have you seen my phone?”

      “Nope,” Kuroo drawled, looking over at the brunette who was snuggled up under his covers. They’d made it to a small, secluded inn in Osaka which was media-free. Since there was thirteen of them (unluckily enough), they’d decided to split into four distinct rooms.

      The coach had a room to himself (Kuroo had joked about him wanting to have a quick wank to himself). Aone, Ushijima and Tendou had another room to themselves. Daichi, Asahi, Hinata, Terushima and Nishinoya had squashed themselves into one room, leaving Kuroo, Akaashi, Bokuto and Oikawa in a room together. Akaashi was in the shower and Bokuto was hooting aggressively in his sleep.

      “I thought it was in my jacket, but I can’t find it. Iwa-chan’s going to worry if I don’t contact him,” Oikawa explained, sitting up at last. Iwaizumi always got annoyed with Oikawa whenever he went too long without contacting him. “You’ve got your phone, right?”

      “Yeah.” Kuroo held up his device. It had a diamond for the home screen button. (Legend says that if you accuse the diamond of being a fake, he gets mad.) “I’ll phone yours.” He tapped on his screen, clicking around a bit. His eyes widened.

      “What’s wrong? Why are you making that face?”

      “I’ve got a shitload of missed phone calls. One thousand, five hundred and fifty-six.” Kuroo was scrolling through his call log in disbelief, barely able to believe his eyes. “What… how the hell? I don’t know any of these numbers.”

      Oikawa sighed. “This can’t be good.”

      Kuroo hopped over to Bokuto’s futon and shook him awake. “Oi, Bokuto. Wake up!” He wasn’t waking up. Kuroo took in a deep breath and whispered “Hoot hoot” into the man’s ear. This time, Bokuto sat up, blinked twice and yelled a “Hoot hoot!” at nobody in particular.

      “Bokuto, check your phone,” Kuroo ordered. Bokuto didn’t question the order — he simply clicked onto his phone, only for a call request to pop up before he could even finish typing the PIN.

      “Hey, do any of you know this number?” Bokuto turned his phone to show the others. “I’ve never seen it before.”

      “Answer it,” Oikawa said. “Let’s see what it is.” Bokuto nodded and answered it. Almost instantly, a loud _kweeee_ could be heard. There was some giggling, some laughing and then a loud “Hi!” that almost blew out Bokuto’s eardrums. The scary thing was that the phone wasn’t even on loudspeaker. It wasn’t long before Bokuto hung up the phone.

      It was then that the other teammates began to file into the room, holding their phones up.

      “Hey, have you guys been getting phone calls?” Daichi rubbed his eyes. It didn’t look like he’d slept very well. “I couldn’t sleep. The mute feature on my phone doesn’t work so the ringtone kept going off…”

      “I was trying to phone my mom, but I kept getting calls from some old guy that wanted to know how I stay so youthful…” Hinata had a disgusted look on his face just _thinking_ about it. “I can’t do anything. I keep getting phone calls.”

      It wasn’t long before everyone had decided to gather in their room, bickering and arguing over what the cause could be. The only person who wasn’t in there was Akaashi, and that was because he was still enjoying the hot shower water. It was his opportunity to have the shower room to himself, at least until his loud teammates came to bother him.

      It wasn’t until Ukai came in and told them all to _shut the hell up_ that everyone went quiet.

      “Coach, have you been getting phone calls?” Kuroo drawled.

      “Yes. I’ve also been getting noise complaints.” He looked tired and grumpy as usual, but he was also holding his phone up like everyone else. “Hey, Tooru. You’re the only one who hasn’t got a phone out.”

      “Yeah. I don’t know where mine is…”

      “May I say something.” Ushijima put his hand up to speak. Everyone stared at him, before nodding. “I think that it’s possible that our contact information was sold off.”

      “What? No way!” Bokuto stared at his phone. “No way!”

      “Yes way! I mean, who _wouldn’t_ want to talk to me?” Kuroo winked. It wasn’t long before everyone started to argue once again, this time about all the people that _wouldn’t_ want to speak to Kuroo. The list was quite long.

      “Shut up,” Ukai commanded. “Has Akaashi got his phone?”

      “It’s been buzzing all night,” Kuroo responded. “I thought he was using a vibrator or something, but…”

      Terushima wrinkled his nose. “If any of you brought sex toys with you, you’re disgusting.”

      “What? Sex is a natural thing that many humans crave,” Oikawa said, grinning over at Terushima. Oikawa wasn’t about to admit that he’d accidentally forgotten to take his ‘emergency sex toy’ kit out of his travel bag. It consisted of some lube, two different butt plugs and a spanking paddle.

      “Wait, wait. Kuroo.” Nishinoya cleared his throat. “Who the hell uses a vibrator _all night_? Do you know how vibrators work?”

      Hinata felt out of the loop. “What’s a vibrator?”

      “Oh my God…” Kuroo looked around the room. “I think we should stop this conversation for Hinata’s sake…”

      “I second that,” Oikawa said.

      “Wait! What’s a vibrator! Tell me! Now!” Hinata _hated_ it when his teammates did this. They’d make jokes about all these things that Hinata didn’t know about. Kuroo would joke about _wanking_ and Terushima would joke about _fourgies_ but he didn’t know what any of it meant. It irritated him.

      “Tooru,” Ukai said. “When’s the last time you saw your phone?”

      The brunette thought for a moment, blocking out Hinata’s persistent shouts of “Tell me! What’s a vibrator!” while he racked his brains. He was pretty sure that he’d had it on him when he left the house, but he hadn’t actually checked. He’d just _assumed_ , since he’d been in a rush. He definitely remembered having it on Tuesday, when he went to the gym. He’d had it during practice, since he checked the time. But that was the last time he’d checked…

      “Yesterday, when we were at Tokyo Gym,” Oikawa finally responded. “I had it when I left, I’m sure. But…”

      “…there’s a possibility that you might have left it there,” Ukai finished.

      “Yeah.”

      “What’s a vibrator?! Tell me! Kuroo! King! Boku—”

      “It’s something that you shove up your ass,” Ukai snapped. “Now, _shut it_. This is serious. Tooru, if someone’s got your phone and is selling the information on there, it could be bad. Have you got anything like addresses or medical information on there?”

      Oikawa’s face darkened. There was the text messages that he’d exchanged with Hinata, explaining all about his knee injury. Hinata had been the first (and only) person to realise that Oikawa was injured. Through a series of text messages, they’d come to an agreement that Hinata would tell the coach when he thought that Oikawa was beginning to bring the team down. Then, there was the fact that he had the addresses of all his teammates. They’d always visit each other’s houses (well, Oikawa wouldn’t visit Ushijima’s. He wanted nothing to do with him or his house). Oikawa had his bank information on there. His nudes. Iwaizumi’s nudes. He even had Kuroo’s nudes (even though he hadn’t asked for them. Kuroo had begged Oikawa to critique his nudes. Surprisingly enough, Kuroo was pretty adept at taking nudes). If someone was really leaking his information… the world would know _everything_ about him.

      “Yes. I’ve got everything on there…” Oikawa felt like he’d die. Because of his own carelessness, his entire team could be paying the price. “Shit. What do I do? I can’t go back to Tokyo. I’ll miss the match…”

      “Wait, Oikawa. Don’t panic,” Kuroo warned. “It’s not good to panic before a match—”

      “No, I can’t _not_ panic. If some of that stuff gets out, it’s going to be worse than not being number one.” If some tabloid writes some story about Oikawa having Kuroo’s nudes, then Iwaizumi’s going to jump to conclusions and accuse Oikawa of cheating. It’s going to ruin their relationship. The injury could ruin his entire _career_. He could lose _everything_ , just because he dropped his phone somewhere.

      Kuroo put a thumb to his chin, thinking for a few moments before speaking. “The important thing is, what the hell was your PIN?”

      “4321,” Oikawa said. “I don’t know _how_ someone guessed it but—”

      “Are you an idiot?! That’s the most obvious thing ever!”

      “Kuroo-san, isn’t your PIN 1234?” Akaashi was standing at the door, hair dripping wet and towel wrapped around his waist. “And why is everyone here?”

      “Actually, it’s 12341,” Kuroo said, smirking. “The 1 makes a difference.”

      “Alright,” Akaashi said, clearly not convinced. “But _why is everyone here_?”

      “We’re all trying to figure out why Oikawa was stupid enough to leave his phone lying about Tokyo—”

      “It’s not my fault!” Oikawa insisted. “I thought I had it—”

      Kuroo snorted. “Who the hell takes twenty-four hours to realise that their phone’s missing?”

      “Kuroo, leave me alone.” Oikawa seemed genuinely pissed off. “I know it’s bad, alright? I don’t know what to do. I mean, someone could easily be paying for an all-inclusive holiday with my bank details. Or having a party night in my house. Fuck, I don’t know…”

      “Well…” Akaashi sighed. “It looks like you should contact your bank and cancel any cards you might have. It’ll prevent fraud. You’re going to have to wait until after the match to deal with the rest of it. All of us are. We have to be at the venue before five. We have to warm up, we have to get changed… we won’t have much time.”

      “Guys, guys!” Ukai laughed, but it came out a bit awkward. “Let’s try to focus on the match. Shiratorizawa. We’ve been trying to beat them for ages. Come on, focus.” He was trying to motivate the team, but it just wasn’t working. How could they focus when their phones were lighting up with call requests every five seconds? _How?_

***

      “How’s it going?” Kageyama was on the phone to Tsukishima, feeling slightly anxious about the whole ordeal. After searching through the phone’s contents (Tsukishima had gotten a certain look of elation on his face when he came across nude pictures of Kuroo) the two of them had made the decision not to give _everything_ to the media. That didn’t mean that they were planning to hold back, though.

      “It’s amazing. They won’t be able to track it back to us, thanks to Akiteru.” Akiteru was Tsukishima’s brother, the family member he hardly ever mentioned. “We had to wire the money through a series of bank accounts, but it’ll all end up in your bank account. Give it a couple of hours.”

      “We make good partners in crime, don’t we?” Kageyama was feeling so happy he thought he’d _die_. The second that money came in, he was going to get a proper doctor’s appointment for his mother and get her the help she needs. He was going to pay for repairs on the house — especially the leaky water pipes — and then he’d save the rest. He’d always grown up having to save whatever money he got, so that wouldn’t change.

      “Yup. Although… I guess you have to thank Akiteru.” Tsukishima sounded a bit salty about it, but at least he _said_ it. Kageyama wasn’t sure why exactly Tsukishima hated him so much, but it was something to do about Akiteru pretending to be some sort of master hacker during Tsukishima’s childhood. However, right now, Akiteru was showing just how advanced he was.

      “Man. I’m so excited I can’t focus.” Kageyama was sitting in the staff room. He’d remembered to check the room this time, making sure that Yamaguchi wasn’t lurking about anywhere. He was facing the door, making sure that nobody was going to come in.

      “Well, maybe you should _do your job_ …”

      “I am! Things are just going a bit slow today so there’s not much to do around here,” Kageyama insisted. “It’s four o’clock and nobody’s come to play on the court or swim or _anything_. It’s making me restless.”

      “Well, I should go before the manager comes. I don’t want to lose my job,” Tsukishima remarked dryly. “And remember to come by tonight. There’s still some decisions we need to make.”

      “Alright, alright.” Kageyama hung up the phone and let out a deep sigh. Last night, Tsukishima and Kageyama had compiled a whole load of information worth selling. They’d had to enlist Akiteru’s assistance to help them remain anonymous. It hadn’t taken long before they were able to email TMZ Japan, waving around the idea of Seijoh’s contact information. They were offered half a million for it all — the addresses; the numbers and of course, the nudes. The two of them hadn’t bothered to check through Oikawa’s texts thoroughly. From a quick glance, they’d deduced that it was just heart eyes and kaomojis everywhere.

      It was then that Yamaguchi came in. He was grinning as per usual.

      “Hey, Kageyama-san!”

      “Hey.” Kageyama nodded once in greeting.

      “We get to finish work early today! Seijoh have a _humongous_ match and since they’re representing Tokyo, everyone’s watching it,” Yamaguchi said. “You know. Literally _nobody’s_ bothered to come by today… except that one old man who wanted directions to an izakaya.”

      “Oh.”

      “Are you going to watch the match?” Yamaguchi was grabbing his bento out of the small fridge and placing it in his messenger bag as he spoke to Kageyama. “It seems pretty big, you know…”

      “Maybe.” Kageyama wasn’t sure what he was going to do with his spare time. He didn’t want to drive all the way down to Kawasaki only to drive back up to Tokyo _again_ after a couple of hours. Tsukishima was still working at the library so Kageyama couldn’t exactly go down and disturb him.

      “Hey, you should come with me actually! Remember when I told you about my best friend? The programmer? Since there’s loads of food places around here, we were thinking about getting a bite to eat while waiting for the match to start,” Yamaguchi proposed.

      Just the _thought_ of socialising sent a chill down Kageyama’s spine. “No. I can’t.”

      “I’m willing to pay. It’s better to have three people rather than one!” Yamaguchi seemed determined to break Kageyama out of his shell.

      Kageyama thought it over for a few moments. Since they would be in the area, Kageyama could leave his car where it was parked. He could get something to eat and he could be done around the time Tsukishima got off work. “Alright then,” Kageyama said hesitantly. “I’ll go.”

      “Whoo!” Yamaguchi even went as far as to fist-pump the air. “Alright!” He hadn’t actually been expecting Kageyama to accept, but he was happy that he had. He was determined to become friends with Kageyama.


	11. Meeting the Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamaguchi tries to introduce Kageyama to his friends, but it doesn't go as planned...

      “You said we were meeting _one_ person,” Kageyama hissed. Yamaguchi had walked over to a table with four other people sitting at it. There was a guy with dyed blonde hair who was on his game console. There was a guy with a bowlcut, a guy with brown hair and a foreign-looking guy with white hair.

      “It just so happens that the rest of the gang were here,” Yamaguchi said, his tone clearly indicating that he’d planned this. _Such a devious man_ , Kageyama thought as he reluctantly went over to the booth. At his arrival, everyone looked up to face him.

      “Ooh! Who’s this, Yamaguchi? Is it that really hot co-worker—”

      “Lev, shut up.” The brown-haired guy smacked him over the head, causing the guy called Lev to whimper.

      “This is Kageyama-san,” Yamaguchi began to say, pointing at the awkward-looking Kageyama who was rubbing his feet against the ground so much that Yamaguchi was pretty sure he was creating an electric field of his own. “Kageyama-san, that guy sitting at the end seat is called Kenma. He’s my best friend. Kenma, say hi.” Kenma looked up, nodded once at Kageyama and looked back down at his game console.

      “The guy next to him’s called Yamamoto. He’s a bit of an idiot—”

      “Oi! I’m not an idiot!”

      “Yes you are.” Before Yamamoto could start a fit, Yamaguchi moved onto the next person. “On the opposite side, you’ve got Lev and Yaku. They’re dating, so they come as a package.”

      “Say it louder, why don’t you,” Yaku muttered.

      “We’re dating! This is my boyfriend!” Lev wrapped his arms around Yaku. “He’s the most amazingest man ever—”

      “You’ll get us kicked out, idiot.” Yaku was still smiling though. He loved this idiot, even if he was loud, obnoxious and just a little stupid.

      “I’ll sit next to Yaku, so you sit next to the idiot,” Yamaguchi said, shooting a pointed look at Yamamoto. Yamamoto didn’t seem to react to the insult though — his bigger concern was the seating arrangements.

      “Wait. Shouldn’t all us mountain boys sit in the same row?”

      “We’re at the same table,” Yamaguchi sighed, sliding into his seat. “Don’t be fussy. Have you guys ordered anything yet? They’re going to start airing the match in a bit.”

      “Yeah, we all ordered ramen. Well, except Fancypants Lev over there. He insisted on having ‘miso glazed black cod with sautéed broccoli and diced onions’,” Yamamoto said mockingly. “We ordered you some ramen as well, but we didn’t know you’d be bringing a sixth member…”

      “Kageyama-san, do you like ramen?”

      He blinked over at Yamaguchi, thinking seriously about the question. “Well… it’s okay,” he said hesitantly.

      “Have mine then,” Yamaguchi offered. “I’ve got my bento. It’s cool.”

      “Oh, no. I can’t do that,” Kageyama insisted.

      “It’s on me. The ramen here is _amazing_ , I promise.” Yamaguchi did a thumbs-up. “I’ll even make a bet on it. If you don’t like it, I’ll give you five-hundred yen.”

      “You realise he could _say_ he doesn’t like it and score some free cash out of you? Man, Yamaguchi.” Yaku rolled his eyes.

      “He’s an honest person!”

      “Everyone’s honest until it comes to money.” For some reason, that phrase hit too close to home for Kageyama. He could feel himself trembling slightly. He was trying to focus on remaining calm, but now that Yaku had said that… he was beginning to wonder whether he’d done the right thing or not. Sure, Oikawa had been a bit of an asshole. But… did Kageyama do the right thing?

      “ _Idiot_ ,” Kageyama heard Yamaguchi hiss. “You’re upsetting him.”

      Kageyama looked up. The whole table was looking back at him. _Oh, no_. He really didn’t like being in the spotlight like this. He was beginning to consider going to the library and bothering Tsukishima until his shift ended. He hated all these _nerves_ that he was feeling.

      “Um… I just remembered… I’ve got a thing,” Kageyama stuttered, rushing to get up to his feet. “I have to go.” Before anyone could try and stop him, he rushed towards the exit and slipped onto the streets, his heart thumping steadily in his chest as he walked the short distance back over to the place he’d parked his car. The streets were quite empty, which came as a shock to Kageyama. There were usually lots of people and tourists around here, looking for izakayas and steakhouses.

      He was about to turn left when he felt a presence behind him.

      “Kageyama!” Yamaguchi appeared in front of him all of a sudden, breathing heavily. “San,” he added as an afterthought. “Sorry. I forgot the honorific…”

      “It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly.

      “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything…” Yamaguchi’s cheeks were flushed pink. “I just… I want to get to know you better. I thought you might open up more if I let you into my circle.”

      Kageyama sighed. He didn’t want to bother with _social circles_ and knowing people. He had Tsukishima as a dependable friend; that was all he needed. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” Kageyama tried to walk around Yamaguchi, but the brunette reached out for his arm.

      “Wait—”

      “Don’t,” Kageyama snapped, pulling his arm out of Yamaguchi’s grasp with a lot more force than necessary. In fact, he used so much force that he ended up staggering into the road… right into the path of a massive truck. It wasn’t stopping either. It could’ve been thundering down at fifty, maybe sixty miles per hour.

      Yamaguchi’s eyes widened. “Kageyama!”

      Kageyama was frozen. All he could do was stare at the vehicle as it thundered towards him, the engine’s roar the only thing he could hear above his heartbeat. Was he scared? He wasn’t sure. Why can’t he move? _Is he going to die?_

      Yamaguchi’s loud scream of “Kageyama!” was enough to break him out of his thoughts. _Oh, that’s right_. _He’s still standing in the road_. The truck had come to a halt; it was honking the horn at Kageyama. By the looks of it, it had come to a halt a long time ago.

      He took a deep breath, allowed his mind to clear and turned away from the road. Yamaguchi was on the other side of the road, simply watching as Kageyama began to walk away.

***

      “I messed it up,” Yamaguchi said, sliding back into the booth he’d been sitting at. “I tried to talk to him but I almost got him flattened by a truck the size of a building.”

      “Where’s your luck?” Yamamoto sighed. “You’ve been single for how long now?”

      “I didn’t actually upset him, did I?” Yaku’s lips were slightly pouty. “Some people say that I can be blunt, but…”

      “You are,” Yamamoto and Yamaguchi chorused.

      “Sorry.” Yaku shrugged.

      “No, it’s not your fault,” Yamaguchi insisted. “He’s just… shy.”

      Lev looked over at the blonde, who was _still_ engrossed in his console game. “So he’s like Kenma?”

      “Not exactly,” Yamaguchi said. “Kenma just prefers games to people. Kageyama… I’ve seen him when he’s not being shy. He was on the phone to a guy named Tsukishima…” The name flickered in his mind, but Yamaguchi was sure that it wasn’t the same Tsukishima that he had in his mind. It couldn’t be. _That_ Tsukishima was in Sendai, not Tokyo.

      “Oh my God, Tsukishima?!” Lev’s eyes flickered in recognition. "He’s that really snappy librarian guy with the nice ass. Well, if I’m thinking of the right Tsukishima…”

      “What? You’re checking out other men now, Lev?” Yaku turned to face the younger man with a dark look on his face. “Is my ass not nice enough for you?”

      “N—No! Your ass is very nice!”

      “Oh my God, someone get these two a room,” Yamamoto groaned.

      “I go to the library every weekend,” Lev said. “Sometimes on weekdays. I remember him because he’s always on the phone but he hisses at people to be quiet. Such a hypocrite…”

      “Wait, I want to hear the rest of Yamaguchi’s story,” Yamamoto insisted. “Quick, before these two lovebirds start arguing about something!”

      Yaku rolled his eyes at Yamamoto, but he was now grinning. “Don’t worry. I’ll save my wrath for when we go back to my place.” Yamamoto was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that Yaku was grabbing Lev’s dick through his jeans right now. Ninety-nine-point-nine percent. _Especially_ considering that Lev had stopped his incessant talking.

      “Well, he was on the phone to Tsukishima, and he was laughing and joking around with him… he was like an entirely different person.” It had fascinated Yamaguchi. He didn’t think that Kageyama was _capable_ of something like that, but he’d seemed so relaxed while talking to Tsukishima. He was usually awkward around everyone else. “I think that he can be chill with people if he gets to know them, otherwise he’s pretty awkward.”

      “Or maybe they’re just fucking each other,” Yamamoto sang.

      Yaku nodded. “Yeah, they’re probably fucking. Were they flirting?”

      “Well… Kageyama was talking to him about his financial issues and—” Yamaguchi slapped a hand over his mouth. _Shit_. He’d promised not to mention it to anyone.

      “Financial issues? Oh, if that’s the case, just offer to be his sugar daddy!” Lev grinned. “He’ll fall in love with the money, then with you. Duh.” Yaku narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend, but he didn’t say anything.

      “No, forget I said that,” Yamaguchi said, removing his hand from his mouth. “They weren’t flirting… at least, I don’t think so. I don’t know. Either way, he doesn’t seem to like me.”

      “Sirs, I have your food,” the server said, placing each bowl of ramen down as carefully as he could. “Soft ramen, medium ramen, cod…” Once he’d placed all the food down, he bowed his head once before leaving.

      “Hey! The match’s starting!” Yamamoto looked over at the screen, where Seijoh and Shiratorizawa were bowing to one another. The first set was about to begin. “I hope Seijoh win…”

      “I want them to win, but I don’t see it happening,” Kenma said. “All of their personal information was leaked this morning. It was all over the news. Apparently, one of their houses got robbed…”

      “Robbed? Shit…” Yamamoto sighed. “I bet those Shittytorizawans were the ones who leaked it. I mean, Seijoh’s individual players are better than theirs. They’ve only got that guy who’s one of Japan’s top three players… Sakusa?”

      “Yeah, Sakusa Kiyoomi. He’s good. They have a really powerful wing spiker too, Kyotani,” Lev said, already beginning to devour his plate. “Man, this is _good_ —”

      “Don’t talk with your mouth open!”

      “You should take your own advice,” Lev muttered. “You’re always saying stuff like ‘do you like that’ and ‘aren’t you a good boy’ when you’re sucking my—”

      “We’re eating!” everyone yelled simultaneously.

      Yamamoto added, “I really don’t need that image in my head, Lev. Oh God…” he shuddered in disgust. “Suddenly, I don’t want my ramen anymore.” He dropped his chopsticks.

      “You always want ramen,” Kenma dryly remarked.

      “True!” Yamamoto picked his chopsticks back up and continued to eat his ramen. “Whoo! I love this! Now, let’s watch Seijoh destroy those Shittytorizawans!”


	12. Game Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seijoh, the number two team in the whole of Japan finally get their chance to push Shiratorizawa out of the number one spot. At first, it seems like a cinch when the Seijoh players take point after point. But then... Shiratorizawa reveal their latest weapon, and suddenly it's not so easy.

      “OOOoooooohOOooohh Seijoh…”

      “Seijoh!”

      “OOOoooooohOOooohh Seijoh…”

      “Seijoh!”

      The Seijoh crowd was as lively as usual when Oikawa stepped onto the backline, holding a volleyball in his hand. Oikawa’s serve was going to be the first of the game. _Alright. He needs to clear his head; focus on the court_.

      Oikawa tossed the ball up in the air, just slightly in front of him. _Alright. That was a good toss_. He ran up, two, three steps, then he leaped into the air. He could hear the crowd shouting “Woah” as the ball made perfect contact with his hand. It shot right over the net and over the libero’s head, hitting the ground so hard that it made a loud ‘thump’ noise.

      “That’s our captain! No touch ace!” Kuroo ran up from the centre front and high-fived the brunette. _Of course_. Everyone could always rely on Kuroo to lighten the mood. He could pull off all sorts of tricks which would relax the team and he’d always have that same calculating smirk on his face.

      “That’s right.” Oikawa couldn’t find it in him to smile right now. It would break his concentration. There wasn’t much that Oikawa had, but if there was one thing that he could pride himself on, it was his concentration.

      He was able to score eight points in a row with his serve, since he was able to control it with scary accuracy. However, on the ninth serve, the ball was slightly out, scoring Shiratorizawa one point.

      “Damnit,” Oikawa muttered.

      “Don’t mind! I’m here,” Hinata said, slapping a hand to his chest. He would be next to serve once they scored another point off Shiratorizawa.

      “Somehow, that makes me mind even more.”

      “Rude!”

      “Hinata, receive!” The ball sailed past Hinata before he could even prepare to receive it. He’d been too busy pouting at Oikawa. _Oops_. It was no surprise that Nishinoya rushed in to take Hinata’s place right after.

      “Ey.” Nishinoya saluted Oikawa before getting into position, already prepared to receive the next serve. He got the feeling that the ball would come towards him. It _had_ to. _Come on, come here, come here, come here…_

     “Woah! That libero’s amazing,” someone yelled, “did you see how he dashed forwards to receive that?!” The ball went up in the air. It was beginning to drop right by the net, though. Nishinoya face-palmed himself in frustration, but Bokuto was there to save the day. He spiked the ball down onto Shiratorizawa’s side of the court, scoring them the point.

      “Woah! Seijoh’s amazing!” The audience was going wild, cheering and whooping for the Tokyo team. “You can make it to number one!”

      “Come on, Shiratorizawa! Show Seijoh who’s boss!”

      It was Nishinoya’s turn to switch out, meaning that Hinata was up to serve. Oikawa was internally praying that the ball would make it over the net. The man had been playing volleyball for _eight years_ but his serve was still mediocre compared to everyone else’s. Hinata could block, he could spike, he could jump, he could receive (surprisingly enough) but he just couldn’t _serve_ to save his life. He’d always insist on doing a jump serve (since everyone else in Seijoh did) but they were _still_ inconsistent.

      He threw the ball in front of him, but Oikawa could already tell that there’d been a mistake. It was veering off to his non-dominant hand. _Fuck_. Oikawa was preparing himself for the ball to hit the net. Hinata ran up and slapped the ball with his left palm. To his surprise, the ball caught on the net and tumbled onto Shiratorizawa’s side, scoring them yet another point. Everyone turned to face Hinata with an incredulous look.

      “That felt really good in my palm!” He was bright-eyed and grinning, jumping about with glee. “I want to hit more!”

      He _did_ hit more. Five more, that is. All five times, they went towards his left palm and he managed to hit them over to impossible places, scoring Seijoh a whole load of aces. But once Hinata chose to use his right palm for his sixth serve, the ball didn’t even make it over the net. It fell in front of Tendou, who was standing at front centre.

      “Guys… I think I might be left-handed,” Hinata said, shuffling into place.

      Oikawa’s eyes went wide. “You think?!” He’d never seen Hinata serve so well in an official game before. That was… _amazing_. Apparently, the crowd thought so too.

      “Seijoh!” There was a drum roll played before another yell of “Seijoh!” The Shiratorizawa fans were trying to cheer, but everyone seemed to be on Seijoh’s side right now.

      “Kyoutani! Get our points back,” Shiratorizawa’s setter yelled. “We believe in you!” There was a blonde guy holding the ball in his hand. _Wait, who’s he?_ He looked like some sort of angry delinquent, rather than a professional player. The rest of Seijoh had been expecting Shiratorizawa to look unsettled, _especially_ since they’d lost one of their best liberos to a different team mere weeks ago, but they didn’t seem fazed. Not one bit. In fact, they looked _smug_. Upon noticing this, Oikawa could feel himself beginning to become irritated. _Bastards. Why aren’t they worrying? Do they think some rookie delinquent can beat Seijoh?_

      The ball sailed over the net all of a sudden, hitting Oikawa right in the face. It sailed back over the net, but Shiratorizawa were able to receive it this time. Oikawa’s nose had begun to bleed not long after being hit in the face by the ball. It was dripping all over the court, onto his clothes. As if some sort of _payback_ , the ball landed right at Oikawa’s feet. It was stained in his blood now.

      “Timeout!” Ukai rushed over to Oikawa, whose eyes were watering.

      “I can play,” Oikawa insisted. “Just get me some tissue. It’ll stop bleeding.”

      “Tooru. You know you can’t. Go to medical and make sure you haven’t broken anything,” Ukai instructed. “Akaashi will play in your stead. We’ve got a big lead.” That was true. They were winning this set, 14-3. _But this was Shiratorizawa. They weren’t number one for nothing_.

      Oikawa sighed. _He didn’t want to leave the court_.

      “Oiks, I’ll keep the court warm. Don’t be gone too long, eh? You might find a new king standing in your place,” Kuroo teased.

      “Take this first set. I’ll be back to take the rest.”

      Kuroo raised his eyebrow at Oikawa teasingly. “You actually sounded like a true captain there…”

      “Come on,” Ukai urged, tugging Oikawa off the court. He gestured to Akaashi, who looked more ready than ever. “Keiji, you’re up.”

***

      “I still can’t believe those Shittyzawans took Oikawa out! That was on purpose, I tell you.” Yamamoto let out a deep growl of distress. “I’m so angry that I can’t finish this ramen.”

      “That’s your seventh bowl,” Kenma quietly remarked.

      “Those shitty boys are the reason I won’t be having an eighth,” Yamamoto growled. “Man. Fuck them. Stupid, no-talent having ass team… how are they number one?”

      “Hey, hey.” Yamaguchi waved his hands about. “Seijoh won the first set. It’s okay.”

      “Yeah, but the momentum’s in Shittytorizawa’s favour!”

      Kenma let out a deep sigh. “Yamamoto, can you stop calling them ‘Shittytorizawa’?”

      “Why? They’re shitty! They’re shittier than—”

      “We’re eating!” Yaku threw a chopstick at Yamamoto. “Shut up!”

      “Says the one that won’t stop eye-fucking Lev. You fucking couples,” Yamamoto muttered. “I hate couples.”

      “We love you too!” Lev grinned. “Now, let’s watch Seijoh take this next set! They’ve got Shitty— _Shiratorizawa_ cornered.” He’d been about to use Yamamoto’s nickname for them, but once he saw the look Kenma gave him, he quickly corrected himself.

      “No, no. Ever since Oikawa went out, the team’s been different. They only managed to score three aces after he left because of Ushijima, their ace. Ushijima doesn’t let emotions effect his play. But, either way, their momentum’s gone. Kuroo’s trying his best to build up everyone’s motivation, but Oikawa was the one holding the team together. He was the _captain_ ,” Yaku said, looking over at the screen. “Hey, look. There’s three blockers. There’s _no_ way that wing spiker’s going to make it through…” Kyotani ran vertical to the net, much to the surprise of the entire table. Then, he leaped up and smacked the ball directly across the net, missing the blockers entirely. It crashed to the ground, much to the surprise of the spectators. Then, there were loud roars for Shiratorizawa, once again drowning out the people rooting for Seijoh.

      “Jesus fucking _Christ_ , that cut shot was insane!” Lev stared at the screen in wonder as the referee blew his whistle, indicating that Shiratorizawa had won the point.

      “Look. It’s broken Seijoh’s morale even further,” Yaku pointed out. The camera was zooming in on incredulous expressions, slightly dejected looks. _Especially_ from Nishinoya, who hadn’t been anticipating such a spike. “Akaashi seems to be quite panicked about it. At a time like this, the setter should be the one with the best control over their emotions. You know, the kind that pushes away their regrets and strides forwards. I can’t talk though, I’ve never set a ball in my life…”

      “You’re not wrong. Oikawa’s always really focused when he’s on the court, so everyone else is focused. Akaashi’s trying his best, but he’s just not as effective as Oikawa,” Lev said. “Although, if I had to give a positive, Akaashi’s got nice legs—”

      “Do you want me to kill you, Lev?”

      “What? They’re longer than yours!”

      Kenma began to count down. “Three, two, one…” It was then that Yaku proceeded to have a cat-fight with Lev. The two of them could really be childish sometimes (although Lev just seemed to be stuck in an eternal state of teenage angst).

      “Oi, oi, oi. They’re at a deuce,” Yamamoto said, his eyes glued to the screen. "24-24. Whoever gets this set is going to win, I guarantee it.” At the sound of that, Yaku ceased his fighting to look at the screen.

      “Don’t jinx it!” Yaku let out an exaggerated sigh. “Idiot!”

      “No, Yamamoto’s right,” Kenma said, looking up from his game console. Yamaguchi was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure that Kenma’s game had died a long time ago and that he was just looking down at the console out of habit. “The momentum’s been in Shiratorizawa’s favour for a while now. If they take this set… they’ll take the match too. If Seijoh take this set, they’ll have the momentum since they’ll only need one more set to win.”

      “You’re getting into this, aren’t you?” Yamaguchi nudged Kenma’s shoulder teasingly, allowing himself to grin at the fact that his friend was finally beginning to express interest in things _other_ than games. “You used to hate volleyball.”

      “It’s interesting,” Kenma eventually said. “It’s like strategy video games. You plan it out and think about how the decisions you make in the present impact the future. Positioning, weapons, spells… that kind of stuff.” The entire table stared at Kenma to the point that the blonde flushed bright red and looked back down at his console, pressing random buttons. _Yep_ , Yamaguchi thought to himself, _his console’s dead_.

      “Oi! Ushiwaka just did a spike,” Yamamoto roared. “They only need one more to win the set! Look who’s up to serve…” On Seijoh’s side, the rotation had now gone around fully. Oikawa’s monster serve should’ve been up. But since Oikawa still hadn’t returned, Akaashi was serving in his place.

      “I’ve never seen him serve,” Yaku said.

      “I’ve never tasted cod so _good_ ,” Lev said, shoving yet another chunk of cod into his mouth. The cod _had_ looked pretty when it had first arrived, an array of sautéed vegetables complementing that miso-glazed cod, but now that it had been ravaged by Lev’s chopsticks, it no longer looked as beautiful as it had before.

      “You’re still eating that? It’s been over an hour!”

      “This game’s interesting,” Lev said with his mouth full, “it’s hard to watch and eat at the same time.” A small particle of cod slipped out of Lev’s mouth, much to Yaku’s irritation. He wasn’t sure whether to tell the Russian to mind his manners or if he should just _break up with him_. In the end, Yaku opted for his usual sentence:

      “Just… _shut up_.” Lev grinned and continued to devour his cod with one of the proudest looks on his face ever. As annoyed as Yaku was, he still couldn’t help but admire his boyfriend (as slobbish as he was).

      Akaashi tossed the ball in the air, ran up and shot it over. It fell short, meaning that Shiratorizawa’s setter was the first to touch the ball. There was a simultaneous roar of “Yes!” in the entire restaurant. Everyone was focused on the match. Shiratorizawa were repping for Osaka, while Seijoh were repping for Tokyo. It made sense that everyone in Tokyo would be on Seijoh’s side (although you did get the odd person every now and again supporting Shiratorizawa).

      It had turned into a pattern of the ball going back and forth, back and forth. Shiratorizawa tried to attack, but Nishinoya was there to receive the ball. Seijoh tried to attack, but Shiratorizawa’s players would do everything in their power to turn the attack to their advantage. So when the ball finally touched the ground on Seijoh’s side, it was no surprise that there was a loud roar of “Shiratorizawa!” on the screen. They’d won that rally — and the momentum.

      Seijoh tried their best to turn the situation around, but there was nothing that could be done. They’d lost the rally fair and square, which meant they’d lost the set. Plus, Kyotani had been up to serve. Shiratorizawa powered through with their first win, earning themselves a massive roar of approval from their side of the crowd.

      “Don’t mind, Seijoh! You’ll take this next set,” Yamamoto assured.

      Kenma sighed. “They can’t hear you…”

      “Yes they can! They can hear my spirit!”

      “Oi, oi. Oikawa’s back,” Yaku said. The camera was zooming in on Oikawa, who was walking back into the room with the coach. His nose wasn’t bleeding anymore, although his clothes were still stained with blood. You could tell that he’d tried to scrub the blood off, but there were still faint marks on that turquoise-blue uniform of his.

      “Whoo! Sa-sa-sa-sa-Seijoh!” Yamamoto fist-pumped the air.

      “Well, their captain’s back,” Kenma said. “If they can get their head back in the game, they’ll win.”

      Yamaguchi grinned. “Definitely.”

***

      They were halfway through the fourth set when Oikawa’s knee began to start playing up. _Oh no. Not now_. It was like the world was out to get him. First the information leak, then his bloody nose and now _this_. He couldn’t risk coming out of the game again, though. As skilled as Akaashi was, he didn’t have that much of a presence on the court. Oikawa’s presence was so strong that just the sight of him was enough to make people want to focus. What Oikawa had was rare.

      That’s why he’s going to take this ball, _touch it_ , and set it to Hinata. He jumped up, tapped it with his hands. It went flying in Hinata’s direction. But it was slightly too high. _Oh no_. Oikawa’s eyes widened when he realised that Hinata was swinging his left arm up to whack the ball right over the net. It pattered on Shiratorizawa’s side of the court, scoring them the point.

      “Shouyou!”

      “Nishinoya!” The two were roaring at one another, screaming and shouting. They’d made it to twenty first. The score was 20-19 in Seijoh’s favour. But… _Oikawa had made a faulty toss there. In a crucial moment like this, the toss was faulty_.

      “Don’t mind,” Kuroo said, slapping Oikawa on the back. “We’re taking this set by the balls. Remember. We’re winning 2-1.”

      The match progressed as usual. The crowd was roaring, the shouts were near deafening. The cries of “Shiratorizawa!” were beginning to get louder, so loud that Oikawa was beginning to lose that scary focus of his. He’d been shaken by having multiple balls spiked near him by that scary wing spiker of theirs, the one who looks like a delinquent. His mind kept flickering back to Kageyama… Kageyama and that damn _curve serve_ of his. If Oikawa could serve like that… they would’ve tied this match up a long time ago. Seijoh would’ve been number one at last. But Oikawa couldn’t do that.

      He was setting; he was running; he was trying his best. But Seijoh’s formation was beginning to fall apart. This was what Shiratorizawa did. They’d pick apart their opponents, one by one, until they couldn’t function any more. Just like eagles, they would pick and pull until their prey could no longer move. That was how they remained at number one.

      So when Oikawa was up to serve, it was no surprise that his knee was beginning to ache when he hit the ground. The ball sailed over, scoring them an ace. But Oikawa had winced, let out a slight cry of pain. His team looked over at him in concern, but he waved it off. _He’s fine_. He couldn’t be a captain if he couldn’t win through this pain. He needs to win. He’s been waiting too long to defeat Shiratorizawa.

      Jump after jump, his knee was beginning to tremble more and more. Shiratorizawa were receiving Oikawa’s serves with ease now. The set had gone into the thirties, but nobody was winning. They were battling with each other, battling to take the set. If Oikawa’s knee gave now, they would lose both this set _and_ the match. Sure, they’d be going into the fifth set, but it wouldn’t matter. If Oikawa’s injury came to shine, it would break everyone’s concentration. He had to grit his teeth and _play through it_.

      “Player switch!” Those were the last words that were finally able to break Oikawa’s concentration; to break it as if it had never existed. He turned around, breathing heavily as he realised what was happening. Akaashi was standing there, holding up the #1 card in his hand. Oikawa was being switched out.

      _He could’ve kept on playing. He could’ve held out just a little longer_.

      He walked over to Akaashi, took the card out of his hand. Akaashi nodded while saying, “We’ll take this match”. Oikawa could feel himself silently fuming as he walked — well, _limped_ — over to the bench. Akaashi was no longer the ‘reserve setter’ or ‘friendly competition’. He was an enemy. It was then that Kuroo’s words popped into Oikawa’s head.

      _Don’t be gone too long, eh? You might find a new king standing in your place._ Kuroo might’ve just been kidding, but he’d been right. Akaashi didn’t have the crown on loan anymore. Everyone… they all seemed to trust his plays.

      “Tooru. You were being selfish out there,” Ukai began to say. “You weren’t making calls to benefit the team. You were only thinking about taking the points from Shiratorizawa.” That was true. He’d started missing vital quicks, which was unlike him. He’d tried to set the ball to Hinata once, only for him to set it right over the net. He’d messed it up.

      “I’m sorry.” Ukai was still talking, telling Oikawa what he did wrong, but Oikawa wasn’t really sure if he was listening anymore. He knew. He knew that he’d been in the wrong. But the _pressure_ , the _pressure_ on him to carry Seijoh to the number one spot… it was making him crack.

      Now, there was a new king standing in his place.

***

      “They… they lost,” Yamaguchi said. The mood in the restaurant felt melancholy, almost. Everyone had been rooting for Seijoh, so for them to lose… it was strange. “Even when they had the momentum from their previous win and all their aces in the first set… they lost.”

      “Yeah. They lost.” Yamamoto pushed his bowl of ramen away from him. “I… I can’t eat this anymore.”

      “You said that four bowls ago,” Kenma quietly remarked. Even _Kenma_ seemed affected by the outcome of the game. It had been so… _disappointing_. Seijoh had had an amazingly strong start, but Shiratorizawa had picked them apart and destroyed the teamwork that Seijoh had built up over countless years. That was what had allowed them to power through the fifth set with an undisputable win, keeping them at number one. Once again.

      “I wonder if Oikawa had an injury. He was doing really bad in the fourth set,” Yaku said. “Maybe that bloody nose hurt more than we thought…”

      “No, it wasn’t that. It was the pressure that made him play like that.”

      “Lev, don’t be stupid. Oikawa doesn’t let pressure overcome him like that—”

      “I’m not being stupid!” Everyone was surprised by how _serious_ Lev sounded. “They’re in _Osaka_ , where the crowd’s mainly full of Shiratorizawa supporters. Already, it feels like everyone’s cheering for Shiratorizawa. That Shiratorizawa wing spiker kept aiming all his spikes at Oikawa, since they know that he’s the core of the team. Don’t you see? They were trying to break Oikawa since he’s the one carrying the team on his back. They succeeded, and that’s why Seijoh lost.” Lev had been loud. Slightly _too_ loud. People in other booths were looking over at them, nodding in agreement.

      “It’s a shame,” one old man said, shaking his head. “It really is.”

      The table sighed consecutively. “Yeah…”


	13. Profit isn't Always Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima's happy.  
> Oikawa isn't.  
> And Kageyama's stuck in-between.

      “So, what’s the extra stuff we need to deal with?” Kageyama and Tsukishima were sitting in the living room as per usual, drinking water this time instead of sake (since Tsukishima was being stingy about it).

      “The phone,” Tsukishima said, holding the device in his hands. “What do you want to do with it? Sell it? Keep it?”

      “Ehh…” He could sell it, but Oikawa’s phone was quite distinctive. It was a custom-made phone from America, with a sleek design and ‘Oikawa Tooru’ written in cursive on the back, contained within a fancy-looking heart. He couldn’t keep it _because_ of that. He couldn’t afford a phone that nice-looking; everyone around him knew that. He wasn’t sure what to do with it.

      “We can sell it in the black market,” Tsukishima proposed. “My brother knows people. It wouldn’t be traced back to you.” Tsukishima was intent on keeping Kageyama safe from all of this. While some part of him knew this was immoral, he’d been watching Kageyama struggle with life for far too long. He was willing to do whatever it took to get Kageyama out of this struggle.

      “I think… I’ll hold onto it for now,” Kageyama said, taking the phone out of Tsukishima’s hand. “I need time to decide.” He knew that giving it back to Oikawa himself was a dumb idea, but maybe he could go leave the phone outside Oikawa’s house. He just… he didn’t want to take _everything_ from the athlete.

      “Alright. Well, that’s everything sorted. Now, some of the money’s gone into your bank account. The rest is on _this_ card.” Tsukishima handed Kageyama a black bank card, which looked fancy and sleek.

      “How come?”

      “If you have _that_ much yen coming into your account at once, your account will be flagged. If they find out you’ve got Oikawa’s phone, you’re in trouble. So, this bank card’s for little purchases like food, clothes and whatever. You can use your normal one for medical expenses and bills,” Tsukishima explained. “You can transfer the funds from the black card into your main card little by little. If you do it over the course of—”

      “You’re way too into this.” Kageyama chuckled to himself. Tsukishima looked genuinely interested, judging by the way he was hanging off his seat and smiling to himself. It was unlike Tsukishima to be so _talkative_.

      “Well, you’ve finally got a solution to your problems. Of course… of course I’m happy.” He looked over at Kageyama. “You know, maybe now you can stop working so hard.”

      Kageyama leaned back on the couch, let out a deep sigh. “Yeah.” He looked at the black bank card for a while longer, before pocketing it. He could feel the weight of it in his pocket — I mean, who couldn’t? Over half a million yen… compiled into that _one_ card.

      “We should go out to celebrate tomorrow,” Tsukishima proposed, pushing his glasses high up on the slope of his nose. “I know a place.”

      “We don’t have to _go out_.” Kageyama shuddered at the very thought of it. “Just get out some sake and split it between the two of us. Celebration, done.”

      “Such a simpleton…” Tsukishima rolled his eyes, smirking when he saw the look that Kageyama gave him. “Come on. You can’t keep living off my sake.”

      “Watch me.”

      Tsukishima clicked his tongue. “Stubborn _and_ a simpleton. How the hell did I even end up liking you in high school?”

      “You’re just as stubborn as I am,” Kageyama reminded him. He sat up and took a sip from the glass of water on the table, although he was craving the taste of that _sweet_ sake. Ever since Tsukishima had revealed that sake to him, he couldn’t stop craving it. He wanted it.

      “Don’t compare me to you.”

      “Just did.”

      Tsukishima growled. “Stubborn, irritating _and_ a simpleton.”

      “Stubborn, irritating _and_ a simpleton,” Kageyama mocked. The smirk on his face was devious; calculating, just like Tsukishima’s. “I know you are.”

      “Get out of my house.”

      Kageyama couldn’t help but laugh. Tsukishima _always_ told him to leave whenever he started to dish back whatever Tsukishima gave him. “Fine.” Kageyama stood up and walked out of the living room. Tsukishima was following closely by.

      Once they stepped into the hallway however, Tsukishima tapped Kageyama’s shoulder, causing the cleaner to turn around.

      “Take it back,” Tsukishima ordered. “I’m no simpleton.”

      “You take it back.”

      Tsukishima’s hand was now laid flat against Kageyama’s chest, pressing him right up against the wall. “Take it back.”

      “Take what back?” The question had been Kageyama’s attempt at being annoying, but there was a change in the mood. It had gone from being light-hearted to being…

      Tsukishima’s lips locked in with Kageyama’s, pulling the two men together. Tsukishima’s hands slid down to Kageyama’s waist, while Kageyama’s hands hovered hesitantly at Tsukishima’s sides. The way Kageyama kissed was hesitant; endearing almost. Tsukishima decided to take it one step further. His hands went onto Kageyama’s, firmly settling them onto his waist. He didn’t have to pull away to know that Kageyama was blushing. Either way, Kageyama was starting to become less hesitant with the way he kissed. He kept alternating pressure; soft; gentle, then rough and slightly sloppy. Tsukishima allowed him to lead the kiss for a while, before taking control once again. Their bodies were close, _really_ close, but nothing was happening. Not yet.

      At last, Tsukishima broke away for air, smirking when he saw the look in Kageyama’s eyes. “At least you didn’t burp this time,” Tsukishima teased. Kageyama didn’t have time to get flustered by Tsukishima’s comment; the blonde was already going in for another kiss. This time, Kageyama was able to be slightly more adventurous with the kiss, going as far as to touch Tsukishima’s butt. The blonde would’ve preferred it if Kageyama had actually _grabbed_ it, but he was content with this.

      Tsukishima slowly began to grind himself against the dark-haired man, listening for his reactions carefully. Kageyama’s lips parted slightly, allowing a slight groan to slip through.

      “Tsukki… Tsukishima…” Tsukishima wanted nothing more than to take this man upstairs and _take him_ until he was a moaning mess beneath him, but he knew that Kageyama wouldn’t want that. So, he settled for taking Kageyama’s hair in his hands and ruffling it slightly as he pulled out of the kiss at last, allowing himself to appreciate the sight. This was his idiot best friend, completely and thoroughly mussed up. Tsukishima liked this.

      “ _Now_ will you have dinner with me tomorrow?”

      Kageyama smiled, a genuinely happy smile. “Who’s paying?”

      “Why are you looking at me?” Tsukishima raised an eyebrow at Kageyama. When the man continued to smile at him, Tsukishima could feel himself melting as he clicked his tongue. “God, fine. I’ll pay.”

      “Alright. It’s a date.” Kageyama sounded confident in the words, but he still had one of those little nervous blushes on his face. Tsukishima really, _really_ liked this. “I’ll see you tomorrow…”

      “I’ll be picking you up,” Tsukishima said. “Be ready at nine.”

      “Okay, okay.” Kageyama was walking towards the door, trying to look nonchalant. In reality, he’d been slightly turned on by what had just happened. It was a pretty strange feeling, but… _he liked it_. Tsukishima didn’t want Kageyama to leave, but it was fine. He’d be seeing him tomorrow. _He’d see him_.

***

      It was no surprise that Kageyama chose to drive back over to the gym. There was nobody left in there, so it was the perfect opportunity for him to go and get some practice in. Plus, he hadn’t had the chance to polish the court.

      He walked in as per usual after retrieving his set of keys and letting himself in. He walked into the equipment room, got the trolley of balls and rolled it over to the sideline. The court was there, dimly lit by the overhead lights. He was breathing heavily as he grabbed the ball and took his spot at the court, prepared to serve it over the net. It was the same thing he always did, but it seemed to hold even more weight than usual.

      There was a ‘whoosh’ that was hardly audible as Kageyama tossed the ball up into the air. He rushed forwards, his rubber soles not even having a chance to squeak against the court. He was already in the air, smacking the ball with his palm slightly tilted to the right. It zoomed right over the net and landed on the left side of the court, just as Kageyama had anticipated.

      “Whew.” He landed and looked around himself, allowing himself to chuckle when he’d ascertained that nobody was listening. His serve seemed to be getting stronger the more he practiced. Carrying weights about in the gym day after day, lifting heavy boxes, running about the whole building performing tasks… it was making Kageyama stronger.

      He _was_ stronger.

      He walked over to his ball trolley and retrieved another ball, allowing it to sit snug in the curve of his palm. He loved this; the feel of the court; the taste of the air. Cold, unforgiving… it was the taste of victory. He tossed the ball up once again and ran forwards, taking bigger strides this team. He was running towards this victory, leaping up into the air and allowing it to skim along his hand for a mere second before shooting right over the net. It flew, curved and settled on the left side of the court, not far from where his last serve had gone.

      It was then that Kageyama heard the swing of the door, the squeak of rubber soles on the ground. The strong presence; the aura which seemed to coat the entire room.

      “I would’ve come through the window, but my knee’s been acting up.” Kageyama turned to face Oikawa, who looked utterly and thoroughly beaten. He was still in his uniform, his blood-stained uniform. His hair wasn’t as immaculate as it usually was. It had gone all frizzy from all the heat in the volleyball court; frizzy from his sweat. The look on his face wasn’t saying much, but it was saying one thing: why?

      Kageyama had been about to ask how Oikawa got in, but then he remembered. Oikawa had his way of sneaking through little crevices and cracks whenever he wanted to.

      “You mind if I stay here? I’m not really sure I want to go home right now,” Oikawa admitted. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that Iwaizumi would want to talk to him the second he stepped through the door; he knew that it wouldn’t end well.

      Kageyama shook his head. “I’ll leave.”

      “Alright, but can I at least have my phone back?” At the sound of that, Kageyama could feel a note of dread in his stomach? _He knows?_ Did Kageyama make a mistake? What… why?

      Kageyama flushed bright red. “I…”

      “I was an asshole when we first met, I’ll give you that. But come on, did you really have to sell everyone _else’s_ information too? That’s just a dick move.” Oikawa was definitely annoyed, but he didn’t seem as angry as Kageyama would’ve expected. “I figured it out on the way home. I remember, I had my phone when I came here because Iwa-chan sent me a text asking when I’d be home. And then I didn’t have it when I got home, but I didn’t have time to realise because of Iwa-chan. I left it here. And you’re the cleaner, aren’t you? You saw it as your chance to get me back for being an asshole.” He let out a deep sigh, one which made his chest shudder and his eyes slam shut. He allowed himself to sit against the wall, only making him look even _more_ defeated than he had before.

      Kageyama pulled the device out of his pocket and handed it to Oikawa. The cleaner was shocked when Oikawa instead grabbed his hand, causing Kageyama to drop the phone. It fell into Oikawa’s lap, so it didn’t shatter. Either way, the rage burning in Oikawa’s eyes was unmistakeable.

      “Are you proud of yourself?”

      “Let me go—”

      “No, tell me. Are you proud of yourself?”

      When Kageyama neglected to respond, he tightened his grip for a few moments before finally letting the cleaner’s hand go. Oikawa couldn’t stop the tears that were falling down his cheeks. He’d disappointed his teams; his supporters… _everyone_. He’d disappointed them all because of his own insecurities. He loved volleyball, he really did. But it was so _hard_ when there were all these people, so determined to take his place.

      “I did it… I did it because I needed the money,” Kageyama began to say. “My mother… she needed it. I get paid lower than minimum wage, so I had no way of getting the funds for her. She has a rare disease. It’s called fibromyalgia. It means that she feels pain all the time. Nothing can stop it. I… the only way to help her is if I can get her the right doctors. That’s why.” Surprisingly enough, Kageyama wasn’t crying. He usually felt the urge to when he thought about the pain his mother experienced, but today… he wasn’t crying.

      “So, are you proud of yourself?” Oikawa looked up at Kageyama. His eyes held a scary focus; emotion that seemed to come from the very depths of Oikawa’s heart.

      “No.” Kageyama shook his head. “I’m not.”

      Oikawa looked down at his knee, which had now been given a white brace. It hadn’t been there before today. “I was forced to take a break from the team. I’m not allowed to play for the rest of the year. I’ve got fangirls camping outside of my house. My boyfriend’s probably planning to break up with me as we speak. Life’s pretty fucking shit, isn’t it?” He let out a deep sigh, trying to cut off the tears that were falling from his eyes. It didn’t work. He hated to look so pathetic in front of _Tobio-chan_ out of all people, but  _he just didn’t know what to do anymore_.

      “I’m sorry.” That was all Kageyama could manage to say.

      “No, don’t be. You got what you wanted.” Oikawa wiped his tears away, tilted his head up slightly to maintain the illusion that he was still above Kageyama somehow. “But don’t think you’ll get away with it that easily, Tobio-chan.”

      The way Oikawa said the words made Kageyama shiver. They were _definitely_ threatening. All Kageyama could do was let out a slight squeak of terror as he took a step back. Seeing this, Oikawa let out a chuckle.

      “You don’t need to step away from me. What, do you think I’m going to slap you fifty shades black and blue?” The phrase might’ve been joking, but the facial expression he made just moments later made it seem like anything _but_ a joke. “Maybe I should, Tobio-chan.”

      Kageyama had to keep reminding himself what had just happened to Oikawa. The athlete had many reasons to be pissed at him. _Keep on reminding yourself. Keep on doing it… doing it_ …

      “I’m… I need to go home!” Kageyama couldn’t deal with this overwhelming _pressure_ anymore. He felt like Oikawa would gut him if he said or did anything wrong, which he most certainly would. He rushed towards the two balls on the other side of the court, picked them up and placed them in the ball trolley. He wheeled it over to the equipment room. His eyes zeroed in on the polish and cloth, the same two items he always used before going home. He wanted to clean the court — after all, it was his tradition — but Oikawa was still _there_.

      After much deliberation, Kageyama carried the polish and cloth out, aware of Oikawa’s eyes on him the whole time. It wasn’t long before Oikawa said something.

      “I’m going to come here every day, so you better get used to me.”

      Kageyama wanted to ask why, but he didn’t want to risk triggering any sort of conversation. He just wanted to finish up and _go home_. So that’s what he did. Oikawa sat there, quietly watching for the whole ten minutes it took Kageyama to polish the court. He got off his knees at last and walked back over to the equipment room before locking the door at last. He looked down at Oikawa, who was now staring back up at him with innocent eyes.

      “I have to lock up.”

      “Why should I move?” Oikawa folded his arms stubbornly.

      “I have to lock up,” Kageyama repeated.

      “Then carry me,” Oikawa ordered. “Come on. I’m not that heavy.”

      Kageyama couldn’t believe this. Even _now_ , Oikawa was treating him like a second-class citizen. He was wondering if Takeda would fire him if he chose to lock the athlete in here until it was time to open up in the morning. _Probably. Takeda’s obsessed with Seijoh_. Kageyama sighed. He hated this situation, he really did.

      “If you’re going to sue me, then just do it.”

      “No. I’m not suing you.” Oikawa smiled, an eerie grin. “Since you hate me so much, I’m just going to muscle my way into your life. I’ve got nothing else to do, right? By the time I get back onto Seijoh, I’ll be the reserve. So, I’m going to toy around with you. Carry me, _Tobio-chan_.”

      Kageyama was beginning to feel a little terrified now. He didn’t want to get involved with this. His heartbeat was beginning to quicken; his breathing was starting to become more laboured. _Is this an anxiety attack?_

      It was all Kageyama could do to rush out of the room as it began to hit him at last. The uncontrollable breathing, the heartbeats, _racing_ ; all these emotions that won’t go away. He feels like his legs are becoming liquidised, but he’s being forced to stand. He clutches onto a nearby wall, trying to maintain his balance, but it seems futile. He’s dizzy. The tears are falling, but he can’t stop them. His body’s hot; it’s burning up. His forehead’s burning up.

      And then there was a hand on his back.

      “Hey. I’m just playing.”

      Kageyama’s not sure what to do anymore. Does he scream? Does he insist on not being touched? Either way, it’s not doing anything to help the matter. He’s becoming light-headed with stress; shock; whatever this _damn_ emotion was. It’s not long before he finally loses grip on the wall. His knees give out beneath him; the guilt coating him in a thick cloud as his eyes slide shut.

      “Eh…” Oikawa looked down at Kageyama’s unmoving body, then up at the wall he’d just been clutching. “I guess this is what they call ‘passing out’. Interesting…”


	14. Cinderella without the Blonde Hair

 

      That night, Oikawa decided to drag Kageyama over to the staff room. Oikawa wasn’t sure whether the guy would wake up or not, but he figured that it would be better than leaving him on the ground.

      Once he’d managed to pull Kageyama’s body onto the lone couch in the room, he allowed himself to gaze upon the smaller man for a while, thinking to himself. He was shy, unassuming; the kind of guy that didn’t like attention. But he also had a bold side to him, the same kind of boldness that allowed him to break the law without a second thought.

      What does Oikawa do? Kageyama’s right — he could easily sue for damages — but Oikawa’s bored. With all the stress of the information leak _and_ the match itself, it had resulted in his knee injury being discovered. He blamed Kageyama for that. Even though it might’ve been cruel, Oikawa much preferred the idea of toying with this cleaner.

      Oikawa casually walked out of the room, then out of the building. He retrieved his phone from his pocket, checking through his messages and calls. Thankfully, Kageyama hadn’t chosen to erase any information. _He’d just sold it_ , came that cynical voice. With a practiced ease, Oikawa clicked onto his contacts and dialled a specific number.

      It wasn’t long before Oikawa could hear Kuroo’s long drawl on the other end of the phone.

      “Yello?”

      “Can I come to yours tonight?” Oikawa really wasn’t ready to face Iwaizumi yet. _Or_ the fangirls that were camping outside of his house. He just wanted to sleep; sleep and nothing else.

      “Yeah, sure.”

      “Could you pick me up? My car’s parked in the garage at home and… you know. Fangirls.”

      Kuroo chuckled. “As you wish, Cinderella. Where you at?”

      “Tokyo Gymnasium.”

      There was a long whistle on Kuroo’s end. “Didn’t Coach say you should let your knee heal?”

      “No, I didn’t go to play. I went to get my phone.”

      “Oh, right.” There was a short silence before Kuroo spoke again. “I’ll be down in ten. Traffic doesn’t look too bad.”

      “O-kay!” Oikawa made an ‘okay’ sign with one hand, even though Kuroo couldn’t see him.

      “Alright. See you then, Oiks.”

      “Wait, why do you call me—” Before Oikawa could ask the question, Kuroo had already hung up. Kuroo had a habit of hanging up whenever he couldn’t be bothered to answer a question.

      Oikawa smiled down at his phone as he pocketed it once again. He leaned against the wall, waiting until Kuroo’s tall figure would come into view and whisk him away from this place. Maybe Oikawa _was_ Cinderella — just without the blonde hair.

***

      When Kageyama next woke up, it was with a pounding headache and panic in his heart. He shot up, only to bang his head on a lamp that was hanging overhead. It swung over to one side, but it didn’t make Kageyama’s headache any better. It was dark; _so_ dark. It didn’t take him long to realise where he was. The staff room. He felt groggy and exhausted despite the fact he’d just been asleep. He blinked for a few moments, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

      Once he’d sat there for a few moments, the events that had led up to his coming here began to replay in his head. Oikawa appearing out of nowhere. Oikawa asking questions, sitting down… Oikawa taunting him, practically _claiming him_ … and now he was here. He was scared of the athlete, that was for sure. He was so groggy that he probably wouldn’t be able to drive himself home without causing an accident. _Perhaps he could just stay here for the night_. It wasn’t like it was against the rules, after all. However, his phone was ringing. _Ringing_.

      He grabbed it with clumsy hands. It had fallen to the ground so it took him a few moments to get it into his hands safely, but once he had, he answered the phone.

      “It’s one in the morning,” Tsukishima scolded. “Go home.”

      Kageyama was surprised that Tsukishima actually _knew_ he was still at work. Then again, it was no secret that Kageyama would stay at work even past midnight. He sometimes (well, _always_ ) got carried away when he was on the court.

      “You go home.”

      There was a brief silence which surprised Kageyama. Usually, the blonde wouldn’t hesitate to retort with a snipe at Kageyama’s personality. But Tsukishima had always been a man of surprise.

      “You sound really tired. You didn’t have another attack, did you?”

      Kageyama chuckled weakly. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t about to drag Tsukishima into all of this Oikawa nonsense. Chances were, the athlete would grow tired of him in a few days’ time. There’d be nothing for Kageyama to worry about.

      “So, if I drive to Tokyo Gymnasium right now and see you, you’re telling me that you’ll be looking top-notch.” Kageyama was pretty sure he’d bumped his head at some point. There was probably a bruise on his head _somewhere_ , since it was aching so badly.

      “When do I ever?”

      Tsukishima sighed. “Stubborn, irritating and a _workaholic_. You’re going to be looking like the Grim Reaper’s distant cousin if you carry on.”

      “Shut up.”

      Tsukishima allowed himself a smile before responding with a “Fine”.

      “I’ll go in a bit. I promise. So you can stop worrying. You know, the more you worry, the quicker you age…”

      “Shut up. I’m not aging.”

      “I thought you would’ve seen that as a compliment. After all, when you let wine age, it often tastes better.” Tsukishima was lucky that they were on voice call right now, otherwise Kageyama would _definitely_ be poking fun at how bright his cheeks were.

      “I’m hanging up.”

      Kageyama laughed, a genuine laugh this time. “See you tomorrow.” He was the first to hang up. As he pocketed the device, he stood up and walked over to the centre of the staffroom. Sure, life was hard. But with Tsukishima by his side, maybe he might get through it.

      Maybe.


	15. Boys' Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa spends the night at Kuroo's house.  
> With alcohol.  
> Lots and lots of alcohol.  
> *cough* it's only like three bottles but they're lightweights *cough*
> 
> NOTE: Yakyuken is basically rock-paper-scissors, and the loser has to remove a garment of clothing.  
> NOTE 2.0: Janken is just regular rock-paper-scissors (respectively translated as jan-ken-pon).  
> NOTE 3.0: Uke = bottom. Seme = top.

      “…and I told him, unless you’re going to eat my ass out like your life depends on it, then you better _walk_. And he was just there like, _man_. Fuck do I look like? I think that was some of the best hate-sex I ever had.” Kuroo was lounging on his bed, pouring Oikawa yet another glass of sake. They’d been sitting in his bedroom all night, gossiping and drinking sake.

      “Alright, alright. But _did_ he?”

      “Of course.” Kuroo smirked. “Who could deny this?”

      “Me.” Oikawa slapped a proud hand to his chest, although he was a little unsteady. The sake slopped around in his glass, just barely nicking the corners. It went into his mouth, all in one go. He was engulfed in a warm glow, a lovely warm glow that he felt from his toes to the very tips of his fingers.

      “I’d like to see you try,” Kuroo said, drunkenly shooting Oikawa one of his best seductive looks. “I was voted Monthly Volleyball’s most attractive athlete.”

      “No, you were _second_. I was first this year, last year and the year before last year.” Oikawa grinned. “You’re only second to me, Kuroo.”

      “First the worst, second the best.” Kuroo poured some more of the intoxicating liquid straight into his mouth, enjoying the warm buzz it made him feel. He tried to pour some into Oikawa’s outstretched cup, but he entirely missed the cup and poured it over Oikawa himself. “Oh, damnit. Maybe I’m a bit too drunk.”

      “A bit?” Oikawa _giggled_. It was a sound that Kuroo didn’t even know the setter was capable of. Sure, he laughed a lot. But _giggling_ was an entirely different matter. “Well, I can’t wear this anymore.” Oikawa pulled his shirt off before Kuroo could protest the action. The sake had soaked through his shirt, so Oikawa’s abs were glistening in the dim light that was coming from Kuroo’s blinds.

      “Fine. A lot.” Kuroo let the empty bottle go at last. It dropped onto the bare carpet, rolling in Oikawa’s direction. The brunette grabbed it with surprisingly steady hands and held it up triumphantly.

      “Let’s play spin the bottle!”

      Kuroo rolled his eyes. “You can’t play spin the bottle with two people, idiot.” He was feeling warm, cosy. Sake really _was_ the best thing ever. He didn’t understand why Oikawa loved it so much, but now that he’s actually _had_ some… he might have to join Oikawa in his drinking nights.

      “Let’s play yakyuken!”

      “You’re at a disadvantage,” Kuroo pointed out, allowing his eyes to run over Oikawa’s body. Glistening abs, shorts that ended above the knee, ankle socks and custom-made trainers. That was all he had on.

      “Only if I lose,” Oikawa retorted. “I never lose.”

      “Alright. You’re on.” Kuroo rolled off his bed so that he was now lying on the futon with the drunkenly-grinning Oikawa. “Although, wouldn’t you rather play the truth or dare version? I’ve never been able to beat you at _janken_.”

      “But this is _yakyuken_ , not _janken_ ,” Oikawa insisted. “I don’t know what dares you’d give me. You might dare me to leak my nudes to the media.”

      “The media already has them,” Kuroo pointed out. “Although, I doubt you mind.”

      “No.” Oikawa shook his head, a wide grin on his face. “They’ve been blessed!”

      “So, what do you say? Strip truth or dare?”

      “This is dangerous,” Oikawa said after a brief moment of thought. “I always tell the truth when I’m drunk.”

      “Exactly.” Kuroo smirked. “Say, why don’t I get more sake?”

      “You’re totally trying to get me drunk, aren’t you?” Oikawa snorted with laughter. “Say, Kuroo. What have you got planned?”

      “Truth or dare,” the dark-haired man responded innocently.

      “Can you even walk straight?” Oikawa raised an eyebrow at Kuroo, who was now staggering over to the table where there was another bottle of sake. Surprisingly enough, the two of them had only drunk their way through two bottles. This would be their third — and the last.

      “My walk’s the only thing straight about me.” Kuroo swaggered back with the bottle in hand, still wearing a lazy smirk on his face. “Say, Oikawa. Since you were so insistent on _janken_ , we’ll use it to decide who gets first sip.”

      “Deal. The first sip’s always the richest.” Kuroo sat down at last, leaning against the side of his bed. Oikawa was beside him, holding his fist out. Kuroo put his fist out.

      “Jan, ken, _pon_!” Kuroo did paper, Oikawa did rock.

      “Paper beats rock!” Kuroo covered Oikawa’s hand, grinning triumphantly. “Man, the one time I was able to beat you at _janken_ was for this! Whoo!”

      “Why do you have to make such a triumphant expression? Also, how the _fuck_ does a wimpy piece of shit paper beat rock? Rock can tear paper to shreds in an instant!” Oikawa had an irritated pout on his face as Kuroo took a huge swig from the bottle of sake. Once he put the bottle down, it revealed his ever-calculating smirk.

      “By default, I also get to start.”

      “Hey! That’s not fair—”

      “I’ll take truth.”

      Oikawa blinked at the tipsy Kuroo for a few moments, slowly realising that he was being given the reins. _Oh_. “Um… do you actually style your hair like that?”

      Kuroo chuckled. “No. I sleep with my head inbetween two pillows, so it always looks like this. I decided that I liked it, so… yeah.”

      Oikawa nodded, satisfied by his answer. “Alright. I choose dare.”

      “I dare you to cut my toenails.”

      “No way.” Oikawa shuddered at the thought of it. He’d seen Kuroo’s feet before. They weren’t pretty, not in the slightest. He’d rather part with one of his trainers instead of touching the man’s feet.

      “Hah. You were the first to cave.” Kuroo smirked while taking a sip from his bottle of sake. “I’ll take another truth.” Kuroo had come to the conclusion that Oikawa’s truths seemed to be quite tame. Since they were best friends, there wasn’t much that they _didn’t_ know about each other.

      “Alright.” Once Oikawa had managed to get his shoe off, he looked back up at Kuroo. “I’ve been wondering this for ages. Are you secretly gay for Aka-chan?”

      “I only go for blondes,” Kuroo reminded the setter. “Plus, Akaashi doesn’t go for men.”

      “Wait, _what_? He’s not gay?” The amount of times Oikawa had seen Akaashi, Kuroo and Bokuto doing some weird kind of flirting triangle thing, only for Akaashi not to be gay? Oikawa had been _convinced_ that the three were in a polyamorous relationship. “I don’t believe you. There’s no way you’re not gay for him. _There’s no way Akaashi’s not gay_. Come on.”

      “I said what I said,” Kuroo said, raising an eyebrow at his brunette friend.

      “Fine, fine.” Oikawa took the sake out of Kuroo’s hand and took a swig from it. “I’ll take truth this time.”

      “Yes!” Kuroo did a fist pump. “Okay, okay. Uke or seme?”

      “Seriously? _That’s_ your first question?” Oikawa shook his head at the grinning Kuroo, who clearly wasn’t planning on giving up. “Fine. Uke. But I’m a power uke.”

      “Thought so.” Kuroo nodded to himself. “Alright. I’ll take another truth.”

      “I’ll ask your question. Uke or seme?”

      “Is that even a question?” Kuroo spread his arms out. “I, of course, am a seme.”

      “Yeah, you’re a seme, not Jesus. Keep your arms to yourself.” Kuroo pouted at Oikawa, but he allowed his arms to close back in on himself. “I’ll take another truth. Your dares are incomphrehenensible.”

      “And you’re defefefineitly drunk.” The two of them were a drunken mess of laughter, bursting into laughter over the smallest noises or things. Drunk Kuroo and Bokuto were one thing, but drunk Kuroo and _Oikawa_ were an entirely different thing.

      Once the two of them had finally calmed their laughter down, Kuroo posed his question. “Have you ever cheated on Iwaizumi?”

      “God, no. He’d cut my balls off if I tried.” Even through his drunkenness, there was a definite tone of seriousness that rang clear. Oikawa hadn’t been lying — he always told the truth whenever he was drunk. “Truth or d—”

      “I think it’s obvious that none of us are going to choose dare.”

      “True.” Oikawa snorted. “Alright then, new game title. Truth or strip!”

***

      It was three hours of laughing and bottle-swigging until there was finally some development. Since Kuroo and Oikawa were practically ashamed about _nothing_ , they would keep answering question after question. But once Kuroo had decided to dance upon the topic of Oikawa’s feelings towards Akaashi, that was when things took a turn.

      “Do you resent Akaashi?”

      Oikawa gulped when the question was posed. “What do you mean?”

      “After all, he’s fighting for your spot as a regular. He’s got it. You know, the same spot you spent years working towards…” Kuroo raised an eyebrow at Oikawa. “So. Do you resent him?”

      Oikawa’s jaw went taut. It was easy to say that he resented him, sure. He was mad that things had turned out the way they had. But if he were to cause discord amongst the team by _saying_ that he resented Akaashi for taking his spot as a regular, that would make things even worse for him.

      “I’m taking off my right sock.” So far, Kuroo hadn’t had to remove any garments. Oikawa had parted with his right shoe, and now his right sock. “Do you resent Hinata? After all, you play the same position. You put in the same amount of effort. But he gets more attention for his skills, while people only focus on your looks. Isn’t that right?”

      It was Kuroo’s turn to let his drunkenness elude him, even if only for a moment. It was true, he’d always felt a slight note of resentment for his fellow middle blocker, Hinata Shouyou. But, he couldn’t admit his resentment for Hinata, just like Oikawa couldn’t admit his resentment for Akaashi.

      “I’m taking off my shirt.” Kuroo pulled off his dark shirt, revealing his nicely-maintained abs and muscular arms. He had the best physique out of everyone on the team. Ushijima followed at a close second, then Oikawa at third. Daichi was fourth, and Hinata was dancing about at fifth place (although, Nishinoya was threatening to take his spot).

      “It’s about time,” Oikawa said, smirking over at his best friend.

      “Why do you hate Ushijima so much?”

      Oikawa didn’t even hesitate to pull off his left shoe. He definitely wasn’t going to answer _that_ question.

      “How come you struggle with relationships?” Oikawa had never understood it. Kuroo got his fair share of attention, both from men _and_ women, yet he’d never been able to get in a stable relationship.

      “I’m not good at commitment. You know, volleyball takes priority,” Kuroo explained. Sleeping in a king-sized bed by himself was lonely, even lonelier than he could’ve ever imagined. He had the odd one-night stand every now and again, but he’d always felt like there was something missing. “What about you? You’ve been pretty up-and-down ever since you and Iwaizumi got a house together…”

      “It’s been moving too fast,” Oikawa admitted. “Yeah, I like him. But… he wants so much from me. First, it was getting a joint bank account, then a house, and then he’s talking about meeting my parents and stuff… you know, we’ve only been together three years. I’m only twenty-six. It’s all too fast.”

      “So… you don’t want to be with him?”

      “Well… I don’t know. Our relationship’s been stretched thin for a while now. Chances are that the second I step through that front door, we’ll argue. Probably break up. I’ll cry. I don’t know.” Oikawa sighed, took another swig from the bottle of sake. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

      “Are we still talking about this game, or…”

      “I don’t know.” He set the bottle down on the floor. “I’ve known you ever since I joined Seijoh. That was five years ago, wasn’t it? In those five years, we’ve both seen a lot of things. America. Greece. Disneyland. It’s like seeing the world, huh?”

      “The world’s bigger than America,” Kuroo reminded him. “But, yeah. I suppose. We’ve had a lot of adventures together.”

      “I know I’m drunk. I know _we’re_ drunk. But…”

      Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “But…”

      “Let’s go to a bar!”

      Kuroo sighed. _Of course_. He’d been expecting Oikawa to say something serious, but serious wasn’t something that seemed to echo true with Oikawa whenever he was off the court.

      “The only place you’re going is to hell, Oiks.” Kuroo moved the bottle out of Oikawa’s reach, although it didn’t look like Oikawa cared too much. After all, he’d almost finished the damn thing. He grabbed one of the many fluffy blankets from his bed and draped it over the two of them. “Now, _sleep_.”

      Oikawa didn’t protest the decision. After all, they’d been up talking to each other for _hours_. His body was still buzzing with the warmth of the sake. It was a feeling that was slowly lulling him to sleep; enticing his mind with promises of rich dreams and possibilities. He felt his eyes drifting shut, a faint arm holding him close as he began to snuffle his way through those promises. Today hadn’t been the best for Oikawa. But at the end of the day, his best friend was always there to make things seem just a little brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honour of my upcoming mock exams, I've uploaded this chapter ^_^ (in case anyone's curious, my exams are in History, English and French. French is my weakest out of the three, unfortunately. *frowns*. But, I'm confident that all shall go well. I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter)


	16. It's the Workaholic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama has a long-awaited conversation with his parents.

      When Yamaguchi came into work at half-past eight, he was shocked to see that Kageyama was curled up on the couch in the staffroom. From the looks of it, he’d been here _all night_. He’d noticed that every single inch of the building had been cleaned to the point that it looked brand new. While it pained him to awaken the dark-haired man who looked so _peaceful_ in his sleep, he knew that the boss wouldn’t be happy to know that Kageyama was asleep. So, he gently shook Kageyama awake, trying to push yesterday out of his mind.

      “Go away,” Kageyama mumbled, his eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep. “I’ll get up in a minute, Tsukki.” Yamaguchi flushed at the sound of Kageyama’s voice. It was nothing like the frantic, uncomfortable mumbles that he heard from Kageyama whenever he was awake. This Kageyama had a deep, husky voice that sent chills rolling down Yamaguchi’s spine.

      Hesitantly, Yamaguchi tried shaking Kageyama once again. This time, there was a loud groan of “Stop”. Kageyama rolled onto his back, one of his arms coming off the couch. As much as Yamaguchi would’ve preferred to stay there and observe Kageyama’s sleeping habits, he knew it wasn’t an option.

      So, he decided to clap in Kageyama’s ear. This time, the raven-haired man sat up, his eyes darting back and forth. Once his eyes met Yamaguchi’s, he only seemed to appear even more panicked. Suddenly, Yamaguchi was wishing that he’d just let the man sleep.

      “I’m sorry!” Kageyama jumped off the couch, miraculously managing not to trip over his own two feet.

      “No, it’s alright. Have you been here all night?”

      “Well… uh…” Kageyama let out a yawn. “I… I should go home.” He’d definitely been intending to go home last night. But he’d noticed a slight spill upon preparing to leave. So, he’d cleaned the spill up, only to notice that there was a cicada with its leg stuck on the entrance carpet. He’d ended up clearing away little critters and cleaning up the building itself to the point where he was even _more_ tired than he had been before.

      “Yeah. I’ll tell the boss.” Kageyama nodded in thanks before scrambling out of the room. Yamaguchi let out a deep sigh once he was sure that the raven-haired cleaner had gone for sure. He’d only been working here for a few weeks, and he’d already seen just how much of a workaholic Kageyama was. He insisted on doing everything by hand, and he insisted on doing it more than once. He could’ve easily gotten a cleaning job with much better pay, but he seemed to insist on working in this place. Why, Yamaguchi didn’t know, but he didn’t question it. Yamaguchi had only chosen to work here for a few months while he spent time figuring out what he wanted to do in life. He was twenty-three years old; nothing but a university dropout. He’d been studying biology, but he didn’t like the stress that university entailed. So, he’d dropped out, much to the annoyance of his parents.

      And now, he was stuck with a massive crush on his shy, socially inept co-worker. Yamaguchi’s luck really didn’t seem to be looking up.

***

      When Kageyama walked in through the front door, he could smell breakfast. It smelt like eggs, fried eggs. He made a beeline for the kitchen. It wasn’t his dad who was in there, but his mother.

      “Tobi-kun,” his mother said, turning to face him with a big grin. “You’ve been working late again, haven’t you? Sit down, I’m making breakfast.” Her brown hair tumbled past her shoulders, soft and fluffy-looking. Her cerulean blue eyes, the complete opposite to Kageyama’s dark eyes, were bright and joyful. Looking at her now, it would be impossible to tell that she was hurting.

      “Should you be up?”

      His mother chuckled. “I’ve been feeling a bit better recently. You don’t need to worry about me, you know. You’ve always been one to worry. Just like your father…”

      Kageyama smiled, realising that his mother wasn’t putting it on. She did tend to have her days where she’d have enough energy to get up and do things around the house (no matter how much Kageyama’s father insisted against it). He sat down and watched his mother as she bustled about the kitchen, grabbing plates and salt shakers. Soon, Kageyama had a plate of fried eggs and toast in front of him. While the toast was _slightly_ more burnt than Kageyama would’ve liked, he still dug into the dish with relish. His mother was great at making eggs.

      Kageyama’s father walked into the room, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw that Kageyama was sitting at the kitchen table. “I was just phoning you,” he explained. “I thought you were still at work.”

      “No, I got back ten minutes ago.”

      “And I thought I said _I’d_ make breakfast,” Kageyama’s father added, turning his gaze onto his wife. She simply grinned back at him and placed the plate in his hand.

      “Well, you don’t make my eggs the way I like them.”

      He chuckled. “Fine. As long as you’re alright, Akane.” He sat down opposite Kageyama and set his plate down. He began to eat his food calmly, watching his wife as she walked over to the table. Akane was wincing slightly as she walked, but she waved off any of Kageyama’s attempts to help her over to her seat.

      Once the family had settled down at the breakfast table at last, Kageyama’s mother cleared her throat. “Tobi-kun. Your father and I want to talk to you,” she began to say.

      “If it’s about the pipe repairs, it’s fine. I’ll call someone once I’m done eating—”

      “No, it’s not that,” Kageyama’s father said. He looked over at Akane, hesitation clear on his face. When Akane nodded, Kageyama’s father turned his attention back on Kageyama, who had a confused expression on his face. He didn’t understand why his father had suddenly stopped speaking. “We… we don’t want you to spend your whole life working yourself down to the bone.”

      “But… I want to help.” Kageyama put his chopsticks down. He could feel that the mood in the room had just changed. It had become serious; solemn. He’d always been told by everyone around him that he worked way too hard, but he hadn’t heard it from his parents. Not like this.

      “We raised you, remember?” The older man grinned at his son. “We can raise ourselves too. Come on, you’re twenty-three. You shouldn’t be sounding like you’re the same age as us.”

      Akane sighed. “We hate the idea of you being trapped here because of us…”

      “Mom, I don’t think of it like _that_. I like being here,” Kageyama insisted. “You both raised me. I want to do my part.”

      “If you want to go and do your part, _go and live your life_. I’d prefer it if you came back with grandchildren,” Akane added, a cheeky grin on her face. “Your father and I were thinking about it. That training camp in America you never got to attend…”

      “I’m over it,” Kageyama insisted.

      “No.” His mother shook her head. “Ever since giving up volleyball, you’ve never been the same. If only it wasn’t for this damn fibro-whatever-you-call-it—”

      “Mom, it’s not your fault.”

      “Even then, you lost a big opportunity because of that. As your mother, I’m sorry.” Kageyama was trying to cut in with a protest, but his mother silenced him. “Tobi-kun. You’ve never had a chance to have a relationship or anything because you’re always here, looking after the two of us. We both appreciate it, we do. But… we want you to live your life.”

      “We’d rather see you be happy than see you come home with bags under your eyes and a cloud of regret following you about,” Kageyama’s father added. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve ever heard you laugh, you know.”

      Kageyama would’ve insisted that he was still very much happy living here, but his mother was still giving him _the look_. He had to settle for eating his food until he was given the OK to speak.

      “We’ll be fine on our own. Of course, we’d love you to come and visit from time to time. But, it’s about time that you focus on yourself rather than us.” Kageyama’s father pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and settled it down on the table. This time, Kageyama couldn’t stay quiet.

      “No, I can’t take that—”

      “This is an order. Take that money and start focusing on yourself.” Kageyama’s father didn’t look like he was willing to back down.

      “How’d you get the money?”

      “I sold my vintage guitar.”

      Kageyama gasped. His father had been a guitarist in the past, although he’d never made it big. He’d mainly played in local bars and izakayas until he met Akane. From there, his guitar became more of a hobby than a career. Either way, Kageyama’s father had cherished that guitar more than anything.

      “You—you didn’t need to…” Kageyama could feel the black bank card practically burning a hole in his pocket. _He didn’t need to sell it_.

      “Well, I did. Your mother and I will manage, alright? We promise.” He pushed the wad of cash towards Kageyama, who still hadn’t touched it yet. “Now, you need to promise that you’ll stop pushing yourself so hard.”

      Kageyama sighed. Working hard was all he’d ever known. He’d worked hard at volleyball, worked hard at school and now he was working hard at his workplace. It didn’t matter if he was getting paid even less than minimum wage — he was getting _paid_. That was all that mattered. If it meant he could help his parents, he’d work as many hours as it took. But, now that _this_ was happening… Kageyama wasn’t sure how to feel.

      “Don’t overthink it!” Akane slapped both of Kageyama’s cheeks lightly, jolting her son out of his thoughts. “We’ll be fine! Come on, do you think we’re that helpless?”

      Kageyama’s cheeks had now gone a healthy-looking pink. “No.”

      “Now, we’re not saying that you should quit your job or anything rash,” Kageyama’s father began to say, only for Akane to interrupt.

      “That’s _exactly_ what we’re saying. Aki-kun, he does _not_ get paid enough to work at that damn gymnasium—”

      “He can’t be quitting his job in this economy—”

      “He can quit his job _because_ of this economy—”

      “I’m not quitting,” Kageyama interjected at last, putting both his hands up. “But… if you guys insist, I’ll start focusing on my own life.”

      “Finally!” Akane clasped her hands together in joy. “Now, bring me back some grandchildren!”

      “Oh. I can’t do that,” Kageyama said. “I’m gay.”

      “Eh?” The two parents looked at their son, who was sitting at the table with an innocent look on his face. Then, they looked at each other, unsure of how to feel. He’d come out with it so _nonchalantly_ that it was hard for them to decide how to feel.

      “Wow,” Kageyama’s father said at last. “How come you didn’t mention it before?”

      “Nobody ever asked.”

      “We can’t ask you anything when you’re at work all the time,” Akane pointed out. She’d regained her usual joy now. “Hey, so have you met anyone? What’s his name? Will we meet him?”

      Kageyama’s father chuckled to himself. _Of course_. There wasn’t much that could faze Akane. It was that infallible spirit of hers that made him fall for her in the first place, actually.

      “Well… I’m going out for dinner with someone tonight,” Kageyama admitted, now refusing to meet the questioning gazes of his parents. “You already know him. Tsukishima.”

      “Oh, him? I thought you two hated each other,” Akane said, blinking in confusion. “Heh… I guess things change.”

      “Yeah.” Kageyama had a shy smile on his face just thinking about it.

      “Well, you’re not going into work today. That’s for sure,” Kageyama’s father said, standing up at last. “Go to sleep. You look like you’re about to die on the table.”

      Kageyama’s ears were smarting from the remark. “Why does everyone compare me to death?” There was always _someone_ that would bring up death around him. Something about him dying early or working himself to death or _looking_ like death… Kageyama didn’t understand it.

      “Because you look like you’ve been hit by it. Bed. Now,” Kageyama’s father ordered. “Hey, Akane. Maybe we should give him a curfew again.”

      “That’s a good idea, actually.” Akane grinned. “What about eight in the evening?”

      Kageyama fought the urge to groan. These were his parents — scheming, devious and the two people that had loved him consistently for the past twenty-three years. It was because of that he could tolerate their overly-doting natures.

      Maybe now, he could finally relax. Everything seemed fine.


	17. Finding a New Species

      It was almost six in the evening when Oikawa made it home at last. He’d woken up to find that he was entangled in Kuroo’s arms, something which had embarrassed the both of them. However, they’d both brushed it off as ‘drunken escapade gone wrong’ and gotten into Kuroo’s big Jeep together.

      Now, they were outside his house, where there were a few small fangirls crawling about. There were some with cameras, others with autograph books. Either way, they looked like quite the formidable species. It would take more than Kuroo’s horrible bedhead to scare them off. Perhaps, if Oikawa just ran fast enough to the front door, he’d be able to avoid being touched or prodded by one of them. Then again, fangirls were the type of species that could easily summon large crowds of their type. There might be ten now, but if Oikawa steps out, that figure could turn into ten-thousand. The fangirls were everywhere; it was impossible to completely snuff their light. Just when you’re not expecting it… they appear.

      “Oikawa-kun!” There were two handprints on the passenger window, causing Oikawa to jump. His eyes widened as his head turned to face the wild-looking fangirl, with dark locks and red contact lenses. _This must be one of their leaders_ , Oikawa decided.

      “What are you going to do?” Kuroo tapped on the brunette’s shoulder, drawing his attention away from the handprints on the window. “You going to sprint your way through ‘em?”

      “Not even sprinting will save me…”

      Kuroo let out a low whistle. “Well, if you get one or two fangirls clinging to you, it can’t be helped. But if we stay parked here, we’ll have ‘em crawling all over in minutes.”

      “True.” Oikawa sighed. “Alright. Well… I might end up having to stay at yours later if things don’t go well here.” He’d managed to divert his thoughts away from the fangirls since someone else had just popped into his mind — Iwaizumi fucking Hajime. Oikawa would rather deal with a hundred, no, a _thousand_ fangirls than an angry Iwaizumi.

      “You know I’m always here for you.” Kuroo’s hand went to pat Oikawa’s back, but as if realising how weird it would seem, he stopped himself at the last minute. He instead opted for messing up the younger man’s curls, laughing when he began to slap Kuroo’s hands away.

      “Hey! Stop trying to make me look like you!”

      Kuroo smirked. “You could never look this sexy.”

      Oikawa snorted with laughter. “Yeah, right.” The two of them sat there, their shoulders silently heaving with laughter for a few moments until there was yet another window bang from a fanGirl™.

      “Shit,” Oikawa hissed. “I should go.”

      “Yeah. Good luck out there,” Kuroo said.

      “Yeah.” He took a deep breath in before swinging the door open and leaping out of the Jeep. The door slammed shut behind Oikawa. Kuroo watched as the brunette began to dodge hordes of fangirls, even managing to avoid a sumo-wrestler that tried to tackle him down to the ground. A thirty-second walk took the brunette almost three minutes due to all the girls, but he eventually made it to his door unscathed. Once Kuroo was sure that he was safe, he pulled away from the curb and made his way back over to his house.

      He’d be drinking a bit more sake tonight, Kuroo decided. The stuff tasted good, _really_ good.

***

      When Oikawa stumbled through his front door, hastily shutting the door behind him, he saw that Iwaizumi was sitting in the living room, watching something on the television. The editor turned to face the brunette, who was standing by the living room door awkwardly. The television went off. It was a few awkward moments of silence between the two before Iwaizumi finally spoke.

      “So, I’ve been unable to leave the house all day. Your fanbase out there won’t even let me drive out of the garage.” To say Iwaizumi was pissed would be an understatement. There was practically steam coming off his body. Oikawa couldn’t help but wonder whether the man was a Titan in disguise. “The media’s been going wild about some leaked nudes. Mine amongst them.”

      Oikawa flushed bright pink. He knew this was coming, _he knew_ , but he just didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t exactly apologise, because it wasn’t his fault. But he couldn’t just say _nothing_ either.

      “On top of that, my boyfriend also seems to think that it’s alright to turn up home reeking of sake and God-knows what else.” Iwaizumi stood up at last. Just the motion of him _standing up_ sent chills going down Oikawa’s spine. “Are you even sober enough to understand what I’m talking about? I thought you got banned from that bar…”

      “I didn’t go to the bar.”

      “Where were you, then?”

      Oikawa sighed. “At Kuroo’s.”

      Iwaizumi’s jaw tightened. Then his fists. The whole of his body seemed to go rigid at the mention of Kuroo. “Oh, right. The same Kuroo whose nudes also got leaked to the media? Through _your_ phone?”

      “Wait.” Oikawa held up his hand. “I’m not cheating on you, if that’s what you think.”

      Iwaizumi scoffed. “Honestly, Oikawa. I don’t know if I can trust you anymore. It’s probably the same on your end though, right?”

      “Iwa-chan. I… It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

      “You just can’t.” Iwaizumi sighed. “That’s right. Man… this was really a mistake, wasn’t it? We should’ve just stayed friends.”

      Oikawa couldn’t deny it. The connection between the two of them had fizzled out long ago. That didn’t make it any easier for him to _let go_ though. He was losing everything. “Can’t we just… fix it? Go back to the time when we first met and everything was rainbows and unicorns?”

      “I think this is beyond fixing,” Iwaizumi finally said. “We don’t know each other. Outside of sex, we don’t know each other. Three years of what? Three years, and I’ve never even met your parents. Three years, and we’ve never gone on a holiday together, never had a weekend together. You’re always too busy with work. Three years… are we even a couple, Oikawa? We’re basically just friends that have sex every now and again.”

      Oikawa felt a little numb, although he was determined to blame that numb feeling on the alcohol. Yeah, it was definitely the alcohol. “I told you. My parents don’t approve of… you know, _this_.” Oikawa’s parents were devout Christians. Ever since Oikawa had come out to the whole world as gay, his parents had become distant. They knew that Iwaizumi existed, but they wanted nothing to do with him.

      “Do they even know about me?”

      “Of course!” Oikawa looked quite offended. “I told them all about you!”

      Iwaizumi sighed, placed two fingers to his temple. He was getting a headache just from talking to the brunette. “Jesus.” Iwaizumi’s eyes lowered down to his feet. It was then that Oikawa noticed that there was a backpack next to the recliner that Iwaizumi had been sitting on. It was stuffed to the brim, although Oikawa didn’t know what was inside it.

      “What’s in that backpack?”

      “My clothes,” Iwaizumi responded. “I’m staying with a friend.”

      “Oh, let me guess. You need _time_.”

      Iwaizumi picked the backpack up and looked up at Oikawa. “No. I’m breaking up with you.”


	18. Let's Go to Sakanoshita

      Come nine o’clock, Kageyama was standing outside of his house, feeling better than he had in _months_. He’d actually gotten some worry-free sleep. He’d often be kept awake by his insomnia, worrying about the bills and money and all sorts. But now… he’d actually been able to sleep in peace.

      And Tsukishima was approaching him, wearing a _tuxedo_. Suddenly, Kageyama was beginning to feel very-much out of place. He’d put on one of his nicest dark shirts (so, one that _didn’t_ have any holes or tatters in it) and a pair of dark slacks, paired with some black trainers. Whenever Kageyama was out of work, he nearly always wore black. It led most people to believe that Kageyama was an adult stuck in the mindset of an emo teenager, but it was actually just because black clothes tended to be cheaper than any of the others.

      “I don’t have a tux,” Kageyama mumbled once Tsukishima was close enough to hear.

      “You don’t need one.” Tsukishima smirked. “Nothing could save you now.” He tilted his glasses slightly, drawing attention to those golden eyes of his. Kageyama’s train of thought cut out for a moment as he stared, but the second he heard Tsukishima snickering to himself, it was enough to snap him back into the conversation.

      “Save me from what?”

      “Me.” Tsukishima had closed the distance at last, regarding Kageyama with that usual smirk on his face. He hovered for a moment, most likely contemplating whether he should kiss the man or not, but he seemed to decide against it. He took a step back.

      It just so happened that Kageyama’s parents chose to open the door, causing the both of them to take another step back from one another. Akane was there, grinning at the sight of her awkward son with someone who appreciated him.

      “You must be Tsukishima-kun. I’m Tobio’s mother! You can just call me Akane.”

      “I’m Akihiro,” Kageyama’s father said, trying to poke his head out through the door. Akane wasn’t having it though — she kept moving so that he couldn’t get through. She just _knew_ that Akihiro would go and give the embarrassing ‘girlfriend-speech-modified-for-boyfriend’ speech if he managed to squeeze his way through the door.

      “Nice to meet you.” Tsukishima had a polite smile on his face as he shook Akane’s hand, then Akihiro’s (which he’d managed to poke out at last). “Your son’s in good hands tonight.”

      “I’d hope so,” Akane responded. “We’re allowing him to break his curfew for this.”

      “I don’t have a curfew! I’m twenty-three!”

      “Yeah, twenty-three years too young,” Akihiro retorted. Kageyama let out a deep sigh. _He’s so embarrassed… Tsukishima’s definitely going to spend the entire night taking the piss out of him, isn’t he?_ “Hey, Akane. Let me past you. I want to say something—”

      “No,” the other two family members said at the same time.

      “Let the two boys have their fun,” Akane scolded, now beginning to step back into the house. “I’ll see you later, Tobi-kun. Tsukishima-kun, I’m trusting my son with you. Have fun!” With that, the door slammed shut. Kageyama let out a deep sigh of relief. He’d been half-expecting his father to come bursting through the door, but it hadn’t happened. Either way, Tsukishima was holding Kageyama’s face in his hands, fixated to those bright cheeks of his. The blonde’s lips were parted slightly as if he were about to say something, something _important_.

      “I don’t understand how you can blush so much,” Tsukishima said at last. “You’re like one of those annoying hentai anime girls.”

      “How the hell would you know?” Kageyama slapped Tsukishima’s hands away from him, but he was only proving Tsukishima’s evaluation of him, with all the pathetic hand-slapping and gaze-avoiding.

      Tsukishima’s gaily chuckle could be heard as he stepped towards his car, which was parked right outside the small house Kageyama shared with his parents. “Let’s go, then. Sakanoshita won’t be waiting all day.”

      “Wait, we’re going to Sakanoshita? The place with all the Michelin chefs? _Are you serious_?” Kageyama’s eyes widened. “I know your family’s rich and all, but _are you serious_? I’m not even wearing a tux! What if they think I’m just some high-school degenerate trying to score a free meal? Even worse, what if they think I’m some starter member of the yakuza? What if someone mistakes me for a waiter? What if—”

      “Calm down.” Tsukishima’s hand was on Kageyama’s shoulder, those golden brown eyes of his focused solely on Kageyama’s deep blue ones. “No-one’s going to be judging you.”

      “B—B—B—But…”

      “Well, except me.” Tsukishima smirked. “Now, come along. Let’s go.”

      Kageyama didn’t know how, but Tsukishima had always seemed to have a knack for relieving his stress. No matter the situation, he’d come out with a smart comment that would make Kageyama feel a slight pang of irritation, but it would make his worry just… _melt away_.

      The two of them got into Tsukishima’s car. Seeing his car, it felt impossible to believe that a guy like this worked at a _library_ of all places. Since he’d insisted in not playing a huge role in his family’s computer escapades, he’d opted to spend his time working in a Tokyo library. It was his idea of living a normal life around normal people. His parents only ever socialised with computer geeks — the kind of people that only speak in binary and algorithms — and his brother just irritated him, full stop. It wouldn’t really make much of a dent in his pocket if he were to quit his job at the library, but it was just something for him to do. He studied books, learnt more about the world as the days passed and he had fun doing it. That was all that mattered.

      As they drove down the somewhat empty roads, the two men began to phase into a light-hearted conversation.

      “You’ve got great parents.”

      Kageyama could feel his lips becoming pouty. “You’re only saying that because they love to embarrass me.”

      “No, I mean it. They’re great parents.” Tsukishima had a wistful smile on his face. “They genuinely care about you.” It felt like Tsukishima wanted to say something else, but he wasn’t saying it.

      “Yeah, they do. They wanted to talk to me today, actually.”

      “What about?”

      “Well, I’m not allowed to work overtime anymore.” Kageyama smiled, remembering the events of the day. “I’m also not allowed to worry about them anymore. They told me to go out and live my life.”

      “So, you’ll listen to them but not to me?” Tsukishima was only slightly focused on the road now. He kept getting distracted by the sight of Kageyama’s smile in his rear view mirror.

      “Precisely.”

      “Asshole,” Tsukishima muttered.

      “Takes one to know one.” Kageyama allowed himself to smirk when he heard a growl of annoyance from Tsukishima. _Of course_. Although, that usually meant that Tsukishima was coming up with a retort that could probably destroy Kageyama’s life.

      That’s why Kageyama was shocked when Tsukishima didn’t bite back as he usually would. Instead, the blonde decided to confide in him. “I’ve always liked you. Even after you burped when we were about to kiss—”

      “You said you wouldn’t bring that up!”

      Tsukishima was so busy smugly grinning to himself that he accidentally ran a red light. _Oh well_. Kageyama didn’t even seem to notice. He was too busy trying not to be flustered.

      “I never really pursued it after that since… I don’t know. I knew you were having problems with all the bullying in high school and stuff, so I thought it would be best if I just stayed in your life as a friend,” Tsukishima admitted. It was obvious that it had been on his mind for a long time. “I honestly thought I’d be able to move on from it, but I never really could. It always stuck in my mind.”

      “Heh, you have feelings for me.” Kageyama smirked, earning himself a tongue-clicking from Tsukishima. Even though the cleaner was playing at being nonchalant, his heart felt warm at Tsukishima’s words. He hadn’t realised that the blonde had been thinking about things _that much_. With his brief obsession with Kuroo, Kageyama had thought that he had no chance with Tsukishima. But it turned out that Kuroo had just been some sort of diversion. Tsukishima had also teased the idea of Kageyama getting with Oikawa, but it seemed that the blonde was relieved that Kageyama had expressed disgust at the very idea of it.

      “Even if you did burp…”

      “Shut up!”

      Tsukishima smirked to himself as he turned onto a different road. They were getting pretty close to the place now, actually. All he needed to do was find a parking spot.

      “Well, we’ve been together for eight years,” Kageyama began to say. “It only makes sense that we stay together for even longer. Right?”

      Tsukishima was so focused on not flushing bright red that he completely missed a parking space. And the next. _And_ the next. It didn’t help that Kageyama had the most vulnerable, adorable-looking expression on his face either. _Damn you, Kageyama_ , Tsukishima thought as he pulled into the fourth parking space he saw. He wasn’t about to miss that one, not even if Kageyama was still watching him with those dark blue eyes of his.

      “You’re staring at me like I’ve got dicks for eyes,” Tsukishima dryly remarked once he’d safely parked the car.

      “Don’t act like you don’t like it.” Kageyama slid out of the car, wearing a giddy grin on his face as the two of them walked away from the parked car and up the street. He felt like a schoolkid, grabbing Tsukishima’s hand and skipping along the concrete.

      “Do you really have to skip?”

      “Well… this is kind of my first date,” Kageyama reminded the blonde. “I’m happy.”

      Tsukishima might’ve cried on the spot if it wasn’t for him caring about how he looked in public. In all the eight years he’d known Kageyama, he’d never once heard Kageyama say something like that. He’d seen his best friend when he was sad, in low moods, anxious, tired, anything _but_ happy. But now, to see him smiling and laughing, giddier than an elementary-school kid with a new toy… it made Tsukishima feel emotions that he couldn’t describe.

      He wasn’t about to admit that this was his first date too. So, Tsukishima settled for squeezing Kageyama’s hand just a tiny bit harder.

***

      Come eleven p.m., Tsukishima and Kageyama were walking out of Sakanoshita, Kageyama staggering about _just_ a little. Usually, the cleaner would drink in moderation since he didn’t like getting too drunk, but tonight he’d had just a little more than usual. Nothing too extreme. Just one, two glasses more than usual. But those extra millilitres of sake seemed to make a slight difference in Kageyama’s demeanour. Tsukishima had been vigilant enough to avoid having too much alcohol since he was driving Kageyama home (although he’d settled for a small glass of sake) and now, he was beginning to feel grateful for that decision. One drunken idiot was better than _two_ drunken idiots.

      “Hey, Tsukishima. The moon’s out!” Kageyama pointed up at the sky, where there was a full moon. It was grey, surrounded by a misty white fog. It gradually faded out into a barely-there mist, making way for all those burning stars. The two of them, surrounded by all these stars in neon blue… it was like watching a story unfold. One by one, those stars disappear, but nobody ever notices because there’s always a new star to replace the ones that go. Except… if the moon disappears, that’s irreparable. The orbit will change and the Earth will be bombarded by meteors for hundreds of years to come.

      “I know,” Tsukishima responded.

      “Hey. Why don’t I call you Moon Man? We… we can be Moon Man and Mountain Man!” Kageyama looked so happy that it almost _hurt_ to look at him. _God, he’s so stupid_ , Tsukishima thought, shaking his head as he smiled at the dark-haired man hanging off his shoulder.

      “If you call me that, you’re walking it home.”

      “Ehh?” His smile disappeared, although there was still that air of happiness about him. “You don’t like it?”

      Usually, Tsukishima would’ve been blunt about it. But he didn’t want to ruin the mood between them, so the blonde chose to humour him. “I’m kidding. I like it.”

      The dark-haired man started grinning again. “Whoo…” He began to sway his hands as they reached Tsukishima’s car at last, a light sea-blue that reminded Kageyama of his mother’s eyes.

      “Now, if you throw up in my car, you’re dead.”

      “Everyone always calls me dead,” Kageyama mumbled as he opened the car door and let himself in. Thankfully, he was competent enough to shut the door for himself.

      “Well, Mountain Man. Maybe it’s because your dad was in a rock band called ‘Grim Reapers of Death and Sorrow Personified in Amps and Amplitudes of Anguish and Apocryphal—”

      “It wasn’t _that_ long-winded,” Kageyama insisted, chuckling to himself as the blonde buckled Kageyama’s belt up for him. It wasn’t long before the car was on the move again, quietly purring along the concrete roads. They were illuminated in silver, flushed with the glow of the moon from high above. Since the roads weren’t too busy, Tsukishima allowed himself to hold one of Kageyama’s hands as they made the journey over to his home in Kawasaki, looking out at the night sky the whole way through.

      By the time the two of them made it outside of Kageyama’s house, the man was fast asleep in the passenger seat. Tsukishima allowed himself to sit there for a few moments, watching his best friend as his cheeks puffed and de-puffed. _He looks like a chipmunk_. Kageyama could be embarrassing in so many different ways, but it was endearing. Tsukishima loved this.


	19. Dutch Courage

      “He left me! And now—now he’s talking about _selling the house_ and _announcing it officially_ and, and, and—”

      “Oiks, Oiks. Calm down,” Kuroo said. The man himself had been out with Bokuto and Akaashi at the cinema, only to be bombarded with calls from Oikawa the second he stepped into his house. He’d left his cell at home since he didn’t feel like getting interrupted by stray fangirls calling him. He hadn’t anticipated that Oikawa would get _this_ tearful.

      Oikawa took a massive mouthful of ice cream, only to blubber through it all. “He—he said that we weren’t in a proper relationship, and—and that we were better apart!”

      “Do you want me to come over?” Kuroo remembered that Oikawa wasn’t used to being on his own. Before meeting Iwaizumi, Oikawa had been rooming with his younger cousin, Takeru. Although Oikawa and Takeru didn’t tend to cross paths nowadays since they both lived in different prefectures, they still had each other’s contact information. And even though Iwaizumi and Oikawa both had demanding jobs, they’d always slept together. This would be Oikawa’s first night alone in a house.

      There was a blubber on Oikawa’s end which sounded like a mixture between “Muuh” and “Yeah”.

      “Okay. I’m leaving the house right now,” Kuroo said, walking towards his front door and leaving, just as he’d said he would. He grabbed his car keys from the ‘bits-and-bobs bowl’ as he left, slamming the door shut behind him. Although he knew driving wasn’t the best decision, he wasn’t really drunk anymore. Not _really_. He’d be fine.

      “Okay,” Oikawa snuffled.

      “It’ll only take me fifteen minutes at the most to drive down. Stay on the line with me until then, alright? And for God’s sake, if I find that your bed’s completely _covered_ in sake bottles—”

      “It’s not.” There was another snuffle. “My couch is.”

      Kuroo had to stifle a sigh. At this rate, Oikawa really _was_ going to become an alcoholic. If _that_ happened, then he was never going to get his spot back as a regular. Then again… maybe that was the best thing for his health. He’d insisted that he could play with the state his knee was in, but nobody on the team was sure how long it would be before his knee gave out again. They couldn’t risk it.

      “Just… don’t touch alcohol until I get there.”

      “Can I drink it?”

      “No touching it with your tongue.”

      “Can I look at it?”

      “No touching it with your thoughts.”

      “Can I fuck it?”

      Kuroo didn’t bother to stifle his sigh this time. _Man, he really is an idiot when he’s drunk_. “Oikawa, just stop talking. Or moving. Or anything, really.”

      “Can I breathe?”

      This time, Kuroo let out a loud growl of annoyance. Yep, this was definitely going to be a long night.

 

**Not going to be able to make practice tomorrow.**

**-Kuroo [Sent 00:04]**

**\---**

**Sorry, Coach.**

**-Kuroo [Sent 00:05]**

***

      When Kageyama woke up, it was with a brief glow of happiness in his heart. Then, a sharp note of terror. “I’m late!” His head shot up, turning to face the digital clock at his side. _9:52_. He should’ve been leaving for work two hours ago!

      He hopped up, pulled on his clothes in record time and sped down the stairs. This really _might_ be the last straw with his boss. Takeda didn’t seem to realise just _how much_ work Kageyama was doing, now that he thought of it. Tsukishima had always told him that he should try asking for a raise (although the idea of just _initiating_ a conversation with the boss sent chills up the man’s spine).

      The drive to work was full of internal minute-counting and clock ticking, which reminded him of Tsukishima. Strangely enough, there was also the moon, hovering innocently amongst the clouds. Kageyama could already feel some of his fear beginning to melt away.

      By the time he’d parked his car and walked the short distance to the gym, he was feeling a lot more relaxed.

      He stepped into work as usual and into the staffroom, putting his bento in the small fridge provided. Yamaguchi happened to be in there, texting someone on his phone. Once he looked up and noticed that Kageyama was in the room, his hands suddenly became unsteady.

      “Hello!” The word was _slightly_ too squeaky when it left his lips, only making him even more embarrassed. However, Kageyama didn’t even seem to notice. It was like he was some sort of angel, floating about the room and not really noticing what was happening around him.

      Kageyama floated right back out of the room, not even noticing that Yamaguchi had been in the room. The brunette didn’t understand why Kageyama _never noticed him_. It wasn’t like he was _quiet_ or anything. Sure, he had a small frame that didn’t take up much space. But he was still a man of character!

      He sighed as he looked down at his phone once again, where he was in a group chat with those four friends of his — Kenma, Yamamoto, Lev and Yaku — and typed down a quick message.

 

**He doesn’t notice me at all, guys. I said hello and I got blanked.**

**-Yamaguchi [Sent 10:17]**

**\---**

**He’s got a boyfriend.**

**-Lev [Sent 10:18]**

**\---**

**Lev, you’re NOT HELPING.**

**-Yamaguchi [Sent 10:18]**

**\---**

**He’s not lying. You know the restaurant I work at, Sakanoshita? He came in last night with that guy you mentioned, Tsukishima. They had a reservation there.**

**-Yaku [Sent 10:20]**

**\---**

**They seemed pretty cosy. You’re probably best giving it up, Yamaguchi.**

**-Yaku [Sent 10:21]**

**\---**

**I TOLD YOU SO!**

**-Lev [Sent 10:22]**

**\---**

**Lev, speak in capitals again. I dare you.**

**-Yaku [Sent 10:23]**

      As the couple began to bicker, Yamaguchi set down his phone, feeling just a little drained. _Of course he’s in a relationship. He’s an attractive guy. Works hard. Smells nice._ Even then, part of Yamaguchi was still hoping that they were just really close friends and that he still had a chance, no matter how miniscule. He’d take _anything_ at this point.

      Meanwhile, Kageyama was in the boss’ office, apologising for his lateness. Takeda sighed, having seen this happen one time too many. Sure, the man worked hard, but if he couldn’t even turn up to work on time every day…

      “Kageyama-kun. I don’t know if I can let it go this time,” Takeda began to say. “I expect a certain standard from my employees. Tardiness isn’t on the list.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “It doesn’t help that you weren’t here yesterday, either. Is this what I pay you for, Kageyama-kun?”

      “No, it’s not.” Takeda was slightly stunned by just how _confident_ the man sounded. For the whole two years he’d been working here, he’d never once sounded so… clear. He’d always spoken in mumbled, hushed tones. But now, he was looking Takeda dead in the eyes, stance unafraid and voice clear. “In fact, there are probably trash collectors that get paid more than I do. I don’t get paid for the overtime I work nearly _every day_ , I don’t get any _recognition_ for the overtime I work and most of all, when I took this job, you advertised it as a ‘very well-paid full time’ job. If that was the case, I’d be getting paid six figures a month. Not five. So, if anything, you don’t pay me near enough what I deserve.”

      Kageyama’s speech wasn’t perfect. There were pauses of hesitation, slight stutters. But, he hadn’t backed down the entire way through. (He could feel his knees shaking, but no. He wasn’t going to back down.)

      “Well… uh…” It was no secret that Takeda was a bit of a penny-pincher. That’s why he’d only hired two people to maintain a place _this big_. Before Yamaguchi had arrived, it had been Kageyama taking care of it all by himself. Now that the brunette was here, it took a load off Kageyama’s shoulder, but that didn’t mean he was any less stressed out. If it wasn’t for his need to play volleyball whenever he was alone, he would’ve handed in his resignation by now. That court was the _only_ thing keeping him here now. He loved that court more than anything.

      “According to the laws here, I can sue for damages. But I don’t think either of us want a scandal, right? So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to pay me every last cent you owe me and I’ll let the issue go. _Or_ , you can go to court, end up paying me, my attorney _and_ the court. On top of that, you’ll most likely lose Seijoh’s patronage…” Tsukishima had taught him well. The blonde had always had a way with words, after all. It looked like he’d begun to rub off on Kageyama.

      Takeda cleared his throat. He wasn’t looking Kageyama in the eyes now. _How did this happen? Two days and he’s like a different man_ …

      “Well. I’ll write up some documents and we can discuss this formally,” the boss began to say. “I’ll call my attorney. I suppose you bring yours too, since you’re suspended. As of now.”

      _Wait, what?_

      “You can’t suspend me.”

      “Well, while I deliberate how much you should be paid, it only makes sense that you don’t work.” Takeda pushed his spectacles up his face. “You may go home now.”

      “If you suspend me, I really will take this to court.”

      Takeda sighed. “You can’t threaten court just because I’m not doing what you want me to. Either way, I’m not changing your wages until I discuss it with my attorney.”

      “Well, I hope that’s soon. Because _my_ attorney isn’t going to wait.” Kageyama stood up, bowed his head once and walked out of the boss’ office, letting out a deep sigh once he’d gotten out at last. That had _really_ tested his mental strength. He was grateful that he’d made it through, though. He could still feel a faint buzz of sake in his system, probably giving him that extra bit of courage he needed.

      With that dealt with, Kageyama made his way over to the gym facilities. There were probably water spills that were just _begging_ to be mopped up, right?


	20. Maids Don't Cook

      When Kuroo and Oikawa found themselves entangled in a mass of clothed arms and body parts upon waking up, they didn’t even bother to question it this time. They simply separated themselves, got up and began to clean away all the ice cream tubs and sake bottles that had accumulated about the house.

      It was a twenty-minute job, but the silence made it feel like it was going on for even longer. It wasn’t until Oikawa actually _looked_ at Kuroo that he was able to burst into laughter.

      “What?” Kuroo looked about himself, unable to see what the brunette was so amused about.

      “Your—your hair,” Oikawa said in-between bursts of laughter, practically doubling over and howling in amusement. “I’ve never seen it down like that!” For some reason, Kuroo was beginning to remind him of a messier, more muscular version of Kageyama with that hairstyle of his.

      Kuroo felt the tips of his ears beginning to redden, although his hair was covering his ears right now. “Is it _really_ that funny?”

      “No.” Oikawa looked up, having gotten all his laughter out. “It’s hilarious!” The laughter started once again, causing Kuroo to let out a sigh of annoyance. _How’s he been putting up with this idiot for five whole years?_

      “I’m going to make brunch,” Kuroo said, walking towards what he thought was the kitchen. “You can join me when you stop making fun of me.”

      “Alright, alright.” Oikawa put his hands on Kuroo’s shoulders, tilting him in the direction of the kitchen. He’d been heading towards Oikawa’s home gym rather than the kitchen. “But don’t walk around my house acting like you know where everything is.”

      “I’ll learn,” Kuroo insisted. “That’s what I do. You know?”

      “No, I don’t know. Pretty sure it took you, hmm, four months to learn how to do a jump serve that actually makes it over the net…”

      “Hey. I’ve got one of the best jump serves in Seijoh. We can’t all have monster precision like you, you know.” Having made it to the kitchen at last, Kuroo began to rifle through Oikawa’s fridge. He pulled out some eggs, although he could feel himself becoming distracted by the two hands that were still on his shoulders.

      “Says who?” Oikawa tapped his shoulders once more before letting go, twirling over to where the pots and pans were located. He pulled out a saucepan and set it on the hob while looking over at Kuroo. “By the way, are you making fried eggs? If so, I want mine with vegetables.”

      “I’m not your maid.”

      “Maids don’t cook, they clean.” Oikawa grinned.

      Kuroo shook his head, but he pulled out some vegetables and set them out on the chopping board. In all the years he’d known Oikawa, he’d never actually cooked for him like this. They’d only really had time for volleyball, drinking and occasional nights out with the rest of the team, so spending this much time together felt a little unusual.

      It wasn’t long before the kitchen was sizzling with the smell of eggs and fresh vegetables. Oikawa had been kind enough to pull out a carton of orange juice and pour the two of them drinks while Kuroo bustled around the kitchen. Kuroo cooked for himself at home all the time, so he was quite adept when it came to making simple things like eggs and fried vegetables.

      Finally, once there were two plates laden with a generous portion of fried vegetables, eggs and two small bowls of rice, the two men made their way over to the living room so that they could eat. For some moments, all that could be heard was the patter of feet against soft carpets, the shuffle of cushions as the two sat down in the living room. The click of the remote as Kuroo turned it on and played some smooth jazz at a low volume. _Duke Ellington really is great_ , Kuroo thought as he positioned his chopsticks and began to shovel his vegetables down. Oikawa was bobbing his head to the music, having found that he liked it a lot more than he’d expected. But then, he suddenly stopped, looking up at Kuroo with a suspicious look in his eyes.

      “Wait, Kuroo.” Kuroo looked up at Oikawa from his bowl, raising an eyebrow in question. “Don’t you have practice today? It’s Friday.”

      “I took the day off,” Kuroo responded. “I have to look after your stupid ass, after all.” He ruffled the brunette’s hair, although it was beyond saving at this point.

      “Wait, _what_?” Oikawa put his chopsticks down and got up. “No, no. Go to practice,” he insisted, grabbing Kuroo by the hands and attempting to pull him onto his feet. The dark-haired athlete sat there, resisting Oikawa’s pull.

      “If I leave you alone, you’re going to drink yourself to death while pitying yourself.” Oikawa’s emotions were pretty fragile. He constantly dealt with feeling inadequate to many of the other setters he knew and there was always that pressure on him to _win_. Kuroo had seen Oikawa crack, completely break and rebuild himself all on the court in these past five years. He knew this brunette better than anyone else.

      “Will not!” Oikawa stamped his foot in protest. “I’m over it!”

      “You were with him for three years,” Kuroo dryly reminded the brunette. “You’re not over it. You don’t need to put on a front for me, you know.”

      “You’re meant to go along with it.” Oikawa sighed, sank back down onto the recliner chair. The chair Iwaizumi always sat in.

      “No, I’m meant to help you get through it. It’s what I always do,” Kuroo reminded him. He’d already started to chew on his vegetables once again, relishing the fresh, warm taste of them.

      “If you insist.” Oikawa’s forced smile disappeared at last as he continued to bite into his food, not really tasting it. “You’re not allowed to complain about me being sad, though.”

      “Wasn’t planning on it.” Kuroo’s eyes zeroed in on the liquor cabinet, which had a fair amount of liquor hiding inside of it. “Hey. Is there a key for your liquor cabinet?”

      “Mmm.”

      “Give it to me.”

      A piece of broccoli fell out of Oikawa’s mouth. “Eh? No way!”

      “I didn’t ask you. Give it to me.”

      The brunette sighed. “You’re so damn bossy. Just like Iwa-chan…” He had a sad look on his face once again. Kuroo internally face-palmed himself. He hadn’t meant to remind Oikawa of Iwaizumi — that was the _last_ thing he wanted to do — but he’d done it. And now he looked sad again. Kuroo knew damn well that the second he left through the front door, Oikawa would bury himself under his sheets and cry until he died of dehydration, or something like that. He was good at keeping up a front when he was around people, but Kuroo could see through him.

      “I’m sorry,” Kuroo said, getting up and moving so that he was kneeling by Oikawa’s side. There were tears rolling down his cheeks, thin and glistening.

      “They’re not tears, you know. You just put too much spice in—in this damn thing,” Oikawa insisted, furiously wiping his tears away. “It’s breakfast, not I-want-to-die-fast.”

      “Actually, it’s brunch.” Kuroo put his hand at Oikawa’s cheek, tilting it so that he could see the brunette’s face clearly. He wiped away some tears using his thumb, smiling up at his best friend. “You missed a couple ‘they’re not tears’ tears.”

      “Heh.” Oikawa touched Kuroo’s hand, allowed it to linger a little. Kuroo patted the brunette’s cheek a bit before removing his hand at last, getting off his knees and onto his feet.

      “I’m going to go take a shower,” Kuroo said, heading out of the living room. “You have permission to cry while I’m gone.” He shot one final grin at Oikawa before disappearing at last, leaving Oikawa with a slight smile on his face. Just as Kuroo had predicted, Oikawa allowed his tears to fall. They landed on his thighs, soaked into the fabric and touched upon his skin. However, he wasn’t feeling so sad now. He’d get over it soon.

      “Wait, Kuroo!” Oikawa got up and ran out of the room, sprinting up the stairs. Kuroo was standing at the top, looking back over at the brunette. “The key to the liquor cabinet. It’s under that plant you’re standing by.”

      “This one?” Kuroo lifted the plant up. Just as Oikawa had said, there was a small silver key right under it. “You want me to have it?”

      “Yeah.” Oikawa nodded. “The cabinet’s still open, so you should probably lock it before you go…”

      “Sure thing, Oiks.” The dark-haired athlete grinned before walking in the direction of the bathroom, shoving the silver key into his pocket. This time, Kuroo was actually going in the right direction. Once the door quietly clicked shut, Oikawa drifted back into the room he’d shared with Iwaizumi. Kuroo had been wise enough to move Iwaizumi’s items out of Oikawa’s sight, but his _spirit_ seemed to cover the entire place. There was still that faint whiff of cologne; that painting on the wall he’d _insisted_ would look good and the mirror he’d spend ages in front of, spiking his hair until he was satisfied with the way it looked. Oikawa laughed to himself when he remembered how irritated Iwaizumi would get when Oikawa tried to kiss him during his daily routine. Eventually, he’d give in and let Oikawa give him the affection he deserved.

      Oikawa sat down on the foot of the bed and stared into the mirror, wondering where things had gone wrong with Iwaizumi. Maybe… it was Oikawa’s fault things had gone wrong in the first place. He was never good at communicating his feelings. After all, Iwaizumi wasn’t like Kuroo. Iwaizumi couldn’t tell how Oikawa was feeling just by looking at him.

      Oikawa hadn’t been trying hard enough. That was why things had fallen apart. He’d prioritised drinking and volleyball over Iwaizumi and he’d gotten sick of it after a while. Anyone would.

      He flopped down onto the bed, allowing himself to sink into the thick covers. They still smelt like Iwaizumi. _Damnit_. He slapped his forehead, trying to banish any thoughts of Iwaizumi from his mind. It didn’t really seem to work. As much as it bothered him, it would be a long time before he managed to forget about the ambitious editor.

      “Damnit…” Oikawa closed his eyes, instinctively reaching up for the pillow that Iwaizumi slept on and clutching it close to his body. It wasn’t long before Oikawa lulled off to sleep, quietly snuffling in the pillow as he dreamed about the times when things were perfect between him and Iwaizumi.

      He wanted it back.

***

      It was almost nine in the evening when Kageyama spotted the blonde bombshell who was just casually leaning against the wall in the volleyball court, dressed in his usual business attire. Tsukishima always looked so _polished_ , even without a tie. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a job or something?”

      “I finish work at seven, Mount Man.” The blonde turned to face him, allowing a smirk to fan across his face. “Hey, remember when I told you that I have friends?”

      “Remember when I told you that dinosaurs don’t count?”

      Tsukishima clicked his tongue. “Shut up. Since I don’t work on the weekends, they all decided that they’d invite themselves to Tokyo to see me. So, we’re coming here tomorrow to play volleyball. I know you’re obsessed with volleyball, so you should join in.”

      “I’m on the clock, you know. I can’t just start _playing_.”

      “Well, it’s better than you staring at the damn thing all day.” Tsukishima walked towards the court, spread his arms out. “Come on, you know you want to…”

      “Tsukishima,” Kageyama said in a warning tone.

      “Come on… I’ll be your attorney if you play for my team. I’ve even got a law degree.” Tsukishima even went as far as to _bat his eyes_ at the cleaner, causing Kageyama to flush a bright red.

      “Who’s coming?”

      Tsukishima opened his mouth, probably about to spout one of his smart-ass responses, but then he shut it again once he realised that someone else was coming into the room. His eyes widened. “Shit…”

      “What? What is it?” Kageyama turned around to face Yamaguchi, who had a similar expression to Tsukishima’s. Wide-eyed, mouth gaping slightly and stance suddenly stiff and uncomfortable.

      “I… uh…” Yamaguchi was _blushing_. It didn’t take Kageyama long to work out that something was wrong here. He looked from Tsukishima to Yamaguchi, but neither of them looked like they were about to say anything. “Kageyama-san, I need the key for the cleaning room.” Kageyama pulled the set of keys out of his pocket and tossed it over to Yamaguchi, who failed to catch them. It resulted in him awkwardly scrambling for them until he finally managed to secure them. Once he was standing upright once again, he backed out of the room. Tsukishima let out a barely audible sigh of relief.

      “What the hell was that?”

      Tsukishima flushed. “Nothing.”

      Kageyama sighed. It was obvious that Tsukishima wasn’t telling him the truth. “You’re lying. Why? You’ve never lied to me.”

      “I… I just knew that guy in the past. That’s all,” Tsukishima rushed to say. “Nothing to worry about.”

      Suddenly, Kageyama found himself recalling the times where Tsukishima was in university and Kageyama was stuck at home, trying to find a job. The blonde had phoned in with updates every now and again, but he’d also mentioned a ‘dorky brunette who likes films’ who was in the same dorm room as him. _Was that him?_ Tsukishima hadn’t talked about him much — in fact, Kageyama was pretty sure that was the only time he’d ever mentioned his roommate — but it could’ve been…

      “Hey. Kageyama.” Tsukishima put a hand on the cleaner’s shoulder, drawing his attention away from all the thoughts in his head. “I promise you. There’s nothing to worry about.”

      “Then why are you being so cryptic about it?” Kageyama brushed Tsukishima’s hand off, folded his arms in annoyance. “Did you fuck him or something? Is that it?”

      “It was in university,” Tsukishima rushed to say. “It wasn’t like we were a thing or something, it was just a fling. I wasn’t meant to see him again or anything… I mean, he dropped out and I never saw him again.”

      “That’s all I want to know.” Kageyama dropped his arms, let out a deep sigh. “Please, don’t lie to me like that. It stresses me out.”

      “Sorry.” Tsukishima’s hands hovered on either side of Kageyama’s shoulders, although he still wasn’t sure if the cleaner wanted to be touched yet. “Can I…”

      “No, I need to think right now.” Kageyama took a step back. _If it had just been like any of Tsukishima’s other flings, he wouldn’t have been so hesitant. He wouldn’t be blushing like that; he wouldn’t be lying so blatantly. What is this?_

      “Should I go?” Tsukishima felt a little disappointed, although he understood. _He wasn’t meant to see Yamaguchi again_. He hadn’t even _remembered_ the guy’s name, for fuck’s sake. He’d remembered him as that one cute boy with the freckles, the one who was really ticklish, loved sweet foods and curled up on the couch more than he did in his own bed. They’d only roomed together for what, one term? Now, it was coming back to bite him on the ass. He’d set his sights on Yamaguchi in the hopes that he’d be able to forget Kageyama in the process, and it had seemed to be working. But then the brunette just up-and-left, and suddenly Tsukishima was back at square one. _So, why? Just when everything’s working out, why did he have to come back?_

      “Do what you want.” Kageyama turned and walked away from the court, leaving Tsukishima alone in there with his thoughts. The blonde wasn’t sure how to feel anymore. If Yamaguchi was Kageyama’s co-worker… the same Yamaguchi that had lost his virginity to none other than Tsukishima… how would things change?


	21. Ocean Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brownie points to anyone who can guess why I called this chapter 'Ocean Drive'. My works are full of references to things I like. Keep an eye out for a Jojo reference in later chapters! (yes, I'm actual trash. Lmao.)  
> 

      The following Saturday morning, Kageyama woke up to a ‘Good morning’ text from Tsukishima. He’d even added a smiley face. Kageyama looked over at his window, where there was currently a light drizzle of rain. _Good morning my ass_ , Kageyama thought as he swung his legs out of bed and prepared himself for work. Quick shower, hair-styling, teeth-brushing and body-clothing. It wasn’t long before he rushed downstairs and grabbed his bento from where he’d set it down the night before. Then, it was out through the door he went, running over to his car before he could get caught in the rain.

      There was a bouquet of flowers on the bonnet of the car. Sunflowers. Kageyama picked them up, already knowing who they were from.

 

**I’m sorry for lying to you. Forgive me?**

**I’ll even share some sake with you tonight. My treat.**

**-Moon Man**

 

      Kageyama smiled at the name. Although the nickname had been one of Kageyama’s drunken concoctions, he hadn’t forgotten it. In fact, Moon Man was a nickname that he’d been mulling over for a long time, although he’d never once said it to Tsukishima himself. The blonde _hated_ nicknames. That’s why it made Kageyama happy that Tsukishima accepted the one that Kageyama had given him. It made him even happier that the blonde had driven down all the way to Kawasaki just to leave the bouquet on his bonnet.

      “Shit— no, damn— no, _fuck_. I’m wet.” He’d been standing out in the rain, smiling at the bouquet for just a couple seconds too long. He was half-expecting Tsukishima to pop out of nowhere with a gift box in hand, but even _Tsukishima_ wouldn’t have the patience to wait in weather like this. Having come to a conclusion at last, he swung himself into his car, setting the bouquet on the passenger seat.

      Meanwhile, Tsukishima was at Tokyo Gymnasium along with his four friends — Matsukawa, Kindaichi, Kunimi and Tsutomu. It was only nine a.m., so Kageyama most likely wouldn’t be in for some time. He was slowly beginning to work less hours in the morning. Yamaguchi, on the other hand, seemed to be working mornings a lot more often. When the brunette had had to show Tsukishima and his friends where the volleyball court was, the atmosphere had been very much awkward between the two of them. However, he’d excused himself to go and talk to Yamaguchi, who had been about to step into the staffroom. Since it was likely that Tsukishima would be seeing the brunette around pretty often, he’d come to the conclusion that it was best to clear the air.

      It was pretty hard to do when he couldn’t even get a sentence out though. It was just so damn _difficult_. It didn’t help that Tsukishima had forgotten his name too. _What should he say?_

      Yamaguchi was the first to speak. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.”

      “Likewise.”

      “So… you’re dating Kageyama-san.”

      Tsukishima nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

      “Cool.” It really _wasn’t_. How did Tsukishima manage to get everything that Yamaguchi wanted? He got all the praise in university. He got all the attention. He had money, the best grades in his class, amazing smarts and a fucking _fanbase_. It didn’t matter how many times he’d belittle people or make fun of them, his senpais and his professors would just keep _putting him on a pedestal_. Meanwhile, people would only approach Yamaguchi to ask if Tsukishima was single. He’d heard all the comments from the other students: _how can a guy like Tsukishima room with someone so **boring**? Yamaguchi should just hurry up and leave, he’s **useless** at biology._ _He got the lowest grade in the class on that test, how **lame**_. _How did he even get into this university? He’s just a **reject**_. The hate went on and _on_. Tsukishima heard it all, but he never once tried to stop it.

      “I was wondering something,” Tsukishima began to say. “When you dropped out… why did you? You loved biology, didn’t you? You mentioned that you kept stick insects. Juju and Bee.”

      “Class was stressful.” Tsukishima had been the first guy that Yamaguchi had ever dated — or at least, _tried_ to. The blonde had always gotten awkward when Yamaguchi asked what they were. Sure, the sex was good. The conversation was amazing. But Tsukishima just didn’t want a relationship with him. He’d never mention it to anyone around campus.

      “You loved biology more than anyone,” Tsukishima reminded the brunette. “Was it really just class?”

      Yamaguchi sighed. His eyes suddenly became sharper; more serious. “Well, I did have a _certain someone_ who insisted on keeping me around even though he didn’t want to be in a relationship with me. You know, that kind of situation can _really_ stress people out. Then again, this certain someone was just _incapable_ of feeling stress. Sound familiar to you, Tsukki? Oh, wait. We’re in public. I shouldn’t call you that, right? _People might get the wrong idea_.”

      It didn’t take Tsukishima long to realise that Yamaguchi definitely still hated him for what happened in university. _Oops_. “Listen… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

      “What you mean to do and what you _actually_ do are two different things, Tsukki—” Yamaguchi slapped a hand over his mouth, but it didn’t change the fact that the nickname had just left his lips. Nothing had changed. Tsukishima was still this martyr that Yamaguchi couldn’t catch up to; this martyr that had _everything_ that he wanted.

      “So, you left because of me. Is that it?”

      Yamaguchi scoffed. “You must think highly of yourself, huh?”

      Tsukishima frowned. “No, not particularly.”

      “I was being rhetorical.” When the blonde simply blinked back at him, Yamaguchi let out a deep sigh. “Well, if I’m honest, I got tired of hearing the same old stuff from my classmates. I got tired of being with you, only for your face to light up whenever you got a call from that best friend of yours. I can’t believe it took me so long to figure it out… you didn’t give a damn about me. You never did.”

      “Oi. That’s not true,” Tsukishima said. “I admit. I messed up. But… I learnt something important from you.”

      “Oh, so now I’m a learning curve in your vast life? Damn you, Tsukishima.”

      That was when Takeda chose to appear out of nowhere, casting a look of disbelief at his employee. “Yamaguchi-kun?! You’re speaking this way to a guest? That’s unbecoming of you. How can you be so rude? You’re always so courteous to our guests…”

      “No, it’s fine.” Tsukishima shook his head. He was slightly relieved now that his boss had just said the brunette’s name. _Yamaguchi. That was it_. “We know each other.”

      “Oh. Well, Yamaguchi-kun. You’re on the clock. I’m pretty sure there’s a group in the gym that need accommodating,” Takeda scolded. “Get to it. Please.”

      “Will do.” Takeda walked off in the direction of his big ol’ office, while Yamaguchi walked in the direction of the gym. However, Tsukishima rushed forwards, stopping the brunette from going any further.

      “Wait, Yamaguchi. Can… can you not mention this to Kageyama?”

      Yamaguchi looked like he wanted to punch the blonde in the face. “I don’t usually swear, but _fuck you_.” He slipped past Tsukishima and into the gym, leaving the blonde with a perplexed look on his face. _Did Tsukishima really hurt him that badly? There was clearly a conversation that needed to be had_.

      “Hey, Moon Man.” Kageyama was standing there, wearing his sports trainers and that usual smirk of his. “I got your sunflowers. They’ll be going in water when I get home.”

      Tsukishima was quick to wipe the perplexed look off his face, replacing it with genuine relief that Kageyama was here. “So, you forgive me?”

      In an unexpected move, Kageyama moved forwards and pecked Tsukishima on the cheek. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but the cleaner had gone a bright red just from _doing it_. “Yes. I forgive you.”

      “Thank God.” Tsukishima let out a deep sigh. “I don’t think I like you being mad at me, you know.”

      “I’m always mad at you.”

      “Yeah, but that’s _joke mad_ ,” Tsukishima reminded him, clicking his tongue in irritation. “I don’t like it when you’re _mad mad_.” Usually, it meant that Tsukishima had to spend time thinking about what he’d done wrong, then he had to apologise and reveal yet another layer to that humanity of his. Compared to how he’d been in high school, he had become a lot nicer. Not to say he’s not an asshole though — he’s most definitely an asshole, according to most people who have encountered him (especially his boss. The only reason he hasn't been fired yet is because he's so damn efficient that he'd be hard to replace). He’s just an asshole who understands feelings better than you’d expect.

      “Well, maybe you shouldn’t make me _mad mad_ ,” Kageyama scolded. “As long as you don’t hide anything from me, we’re good. Now, let me meet your friends!”

      Tsukishima was genuinely surprised by Kageyama’s tone. “You want to see them?” For _years_ , Kageyama would flinch if a stranger were to do something as simple as asking him the time. But now, he seemed quite open to it. His cheeks had a healthy flush; his eyes were glimmering with joy.

      “Well, yeah. They’re your friends,” Kageyama said. “I have to check that you didn’t just _pay_ them to pretend that they’re friends with you…”

      “Shut up.” Tsukishima clicked his tongue, but he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face. _Such an idiot_ , he thought to himself. _An idiot that’s wearing his shoes the wrong way around_. “Let’s go, then.” The two walked side-by-side into the gym, where Tsukishima’s friends were talking amongst themselves. Once they spotted the blonde with Kageyama, they stopped what they were doing and turned to face them. Kageyama could feel himself becoming a little nervous, but Tsukishima was squeezing his hand. _It’s fine_ , the blonde was thinking. _I’m here for you_.

      “So, guys. This is Kageyama, my best friend,” Tsukishima began to say. “We’re also dating.” Yamaguchi was rolling the ball trolley out, gritting his teeth to himself as he looked at the happy couple. They were happy _now_ , but in a few weeks’ time… Tsukishima would probably end up breaking Kageyama’s heart too.

      “Hey! I’m Tsutomu,” one guy said, playfully saluting the two men.

      “I’m Matsukawa.” He was holding a face towel in his hands. The warm-up hadn’t even started yet, let alone the match, but he was already sweating profusely. “I’ve got hyperhidrosis,” he offered as explanation. “That’s why I sweat a lot.”

      “I’m Kunimi.” The Kageyama-lookalike nodded once in greeting, although he didn’t seem to care that much about what was happening around him. It seemed more like he’d been dragged here by the energetic guy who was bouncing about behind him.

      “I’m Kindaichi,” the energetic guy said, waving over at Tsukishima and Kageyama. “Nice to meet you!”

      “Thanks.” Kageyama nodded once in response and looked over at Yamaguchi, who seemed to be trying to escape the room without being noticed. “Oi, Yamaguchi-san.” The brunette could’ve gasped when he heard Kageyama saying his name. They’d been working with each other for _weeks_ , but Kageyama had never actually called him by name. This was the first time.

      “Y…Yeah?”

      “I need the set of keys I gave you yesterday.”

      “Keys?” His voice went _way_ too high there. Yamaguchi could feel all the eyes on him, _especially_ Tsukishima’s golden-brown eyes. The blonde was suspicious. _Damnit. Yamaguchi really didn’t want to see Tsukishima again_.

      “Yes. Keys,” Kageyama reiterated. “Do you have them.” It was a question, but it came out more like a statement when it left his lips. Yamaguchi didn’t even bother trying to speak anymore. He simply pulled the keys out of his pocket and handed them to Kageyama, trying not to fangirl when his long fingers brushed against Yamaguchi’s during the exchange. He quickly excused himself before rushing out of the room, feeling like he’d faint any second. He made a beeline for the staffroom and retrieved his phone, clicking straight onto the group chat he had with his best friends.

 

**Guys. I can’t believe I didn’t realise. The Tsukishima that Kageyama’s dating… it’s the same Tsukishima from university.**

**-Yamaguchi [Sent 9:44]**

**\---**

**Wait, wait, wAIT. The same Tsukishima that broke your heart?**

**-Lev [Sent 9:45]**

**\---**

**Wait. How did it take you so long to realise?**

**-Yamamoto [Sent 9:46]**

**\---**

**I went to university in Sendai. This is Tokyo. There’s loads of Tsukishimas down here. How was I meant to know that Tsukishima Kei would be amongst those? Ugh…**

**-Yamaguchi [Sent 9:48]**

**\---**

**Fuck him. (NO, NOT LITERALLY. HE CAN DIE.)**

**-Lev [Sent 9:49]**

**\---**

**For once, I agree with that idiot up there ^^**

**And LEV, WHY ARE YOU TEXTING? YOU HAVE WORK!!!**

**-Yaku [Sent 9:50]**

**\---**

**Please don’t start arguing…**

**-Yamamoto [Sent 9:50]**

**\---**

**He’s still an asshole. He doesn’t plan on telling Kageyama that I knew him in the past. He asked me to keep it quiet…**

**-Yamaguchi [Sent 9:51]**

**\---**

**This ASSHOLE!!! How can he be hurting you like this? Asshole! Absolute fucking asshole! He’s bigger than Yaku’s asshole times a hundred!!**

**-Lev [Sent 9:52]**

**\---**

**Lev, I’ll fucking gut you**

**-Yaku [Sent 9:52]**

**\---**

**Seriously, though. I think you should get revenge on the asshole and STEAL! HIS! MAN!!!**

**-Lev [Sent 9:53]**

 

      Yamaguchi couldn’t help but chuckle at how Lev didn’t even seem to be fazed by Yaku’s threat. The Russian really was an idiot, but for some reason, Yaku still loved him.

**Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll all meet up in an obscure coffee shop tomorrow and discuss how to get revenge on Tsukishima :))))**

**-Lev [Sent 9:54]**

**\---**

**I second that.**

**-Yamamoto [Sent 9:54]**

**\---**

**I third that.**

**-Kenma [Sent 9:55]**

**\---**

**SHIT, KENMA?/!/1/ YOU’RE STILL IN THIS GC??? I THOUGHT YOUW ERE DEAD LMAO**

**-Lev [Sent 9:56]**

**\---**

**No, I just don’t care about your arguments with Yaku. I do care about this whole Tsukishima situation, though. If you want a good coffee shop to go to, I have one. It’s called Ishinohana.**

**-Kenma [Sent 9:58]**

**\---**

**YES! WE SHALL ADVANCE FORTH TO SHINAHANA!**

**-Lev [Sent 9:59]**

**\---**

**Can you stop fucking talking in capitals? I’ll come to your house and choke you out if this continues**

**-Yaku [Sent 9:59]**

**\---**

**And it’s Ishinohana. Idiot.**

**-Yaku [Sent 10:00]**

      Yamaguchi put down his phone at last, letting out a relieved sigh. His friends were always there to comfort him, _always_. He’d met them all during his (admittedly short) time at university. Kenma had been in programming, Yaku had been in programming with him and Yamamoto had been a childhood friend of Yaku’s. Lev had been a family friend of Kenma’s and would often come down to the university, despite not actually being a member of the university. Like him, they’d all been the outcasts of the university. Kenma hadn’t liked talking to people, nobody ever noticed Yaku because he was short and people thought Yamamoto was too over the top. It had only been two years since he first met them, but their friendship had helped Yamaguchi through some pretty difficult times. And now, he was here. Kageyama was with Tsukishima, playing volleyball with his friends. When Yamaguchi had been with Tsukishima in university, the blonde wouldn’t even _attempt_ to interact with him when they were outside of the room they shared together. He was jealous. Not only jealous, but _frustrated_. He was definitely going to get his back on Tsukishima. _Definitely_.

***

      When the ball dropped on the other side of the court, Kageyama let out a roar of excitement. “We won!” Tsukishima, Kageyama and Matsukawa had been on one side, while Tsutomu, Kunimi and Kindaichi had been on the other side.

      Tsukishima looked at Kageyama with a fond look in his eyes, knowing that this was probably the first time he’d ever gotten to play a match without getting yelled at by his senpais. “Yeah. We did it, Mount Man.”

      Tsutomu ran forward, looking at Kageyama with wide eyes. “Your serve was insane. It took everything I had to receive it,” he admitted. “I was the ace during my college years, but you completely crushed us.” Kageyama had managed to win a whole set just through serving. By the time they’d fallen into the second set, Tsutomu had anticipated the drop and received the ball.

      “Your serve was pretty tricky too,” Kageyama responded. His face was a little red, although that could’ve easily been attributed to all the serving and setting they’d been doing. “You’ve got a good jump serve.”

      “Hey, this guy’s cool,” Matsukawa said, turning to face Tsukishima. “Why didn’t you introduce him earlier?”

      “Because you all live in Nagano Prefecture,” Tsukishima dryly reminded them. “Matsumoto’s far from here, you know.”

      “But we drove all the way here just to see our dearest friend,” Tsutomu said, pouting at his friend. “Show a bit of compassion, Tsukishima.”

      “No thanks.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes.

      “U…Uh… Can we play another match?” Kageyama was holding the volleyball in his hand, smiling at the men around him. He didn’t seem to realise that Kindaichi was staring at him with utter contempt in his eyes. Kunimi looked indifferent as usual, but it didn’t look like he particularly enjoyed Kageyama’s company either.

      “I should be driving back,” Kindaichi said.

      “Eh? But we’re all staying overnight in a hotel—”

      “Tsutomu, shut up.”

      The setter pouted at him, but he did as he was told.

      Kindaichi continued to speak. “I’ve got an auntie’s… _cat_ that I need to feed. So, I’ve got to drive back. Well, _ja_.” The turnip-headed male rushed out, not even bothering to glance back.

      “Wait, Kindaichi, I came in the same car as you!” Kunimi rushed after his friend. From the looks of it, neither of them would be coming back. Tsukishima shook his head, but he didn’t say anything on the situation.

      “So… does that mean we can’t play another match?” Kageyama’s heart was still set on the possibility of playing another game.

      “We want to play,” Tsutomu and Matsukawa said at the same time. “I’m taking at least _one_ set from you two. Matsukawa, come on. We’ll team up.”

      Tsukishima narrowed his eyes. “2v2? How’s that meant to work?”

      “We’ll make it work,” the three dark-headed men insisted. Tsukishima begged to differ, but he didn’t bother to say anything. Over the years, he'd learnt that trying to talk sense into a bunch of idiots would only end up leaving him with an even bigger headache than he would've had prior to speaking. So, he simply tossed his head and walked into position, looking over at the cluster of men.

      “Fine.” He clicked his tongue and picked the volleyball up from the ground. "Let’s play.”

      The sentence might've been intended for the other three men, but his eyes were on Kageyama and Kageyama only when he said the sentence. Tsukishima's eyes were burning into Kageyama’s, burning with some sort of emotion that Kageyama couldn’t quite identify. However, the spell was broken once Tsukishima tripped over a shoelace that had come undone, almost causing him to hit the ground. Although he regained his balance in the nick of time, the damage had already been done. Tsukishima could hear Kageyama snickering to himself, although it’s obvious that he was trying to keep it in. (At least, Tsukishima was _hoping_ that he was trying to keep his laughter in.)

      “What, are you playing human dominoes?” Tsutomu burst into laughter, and this time Kageyama really couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Matsukawa was kind enough to hold his laughter in, but his amusement still tugged at the corners of his lips. Tsukishima lifted the volleyball and served it right at Tsutomu, who was too busy clutching his stomach with laughter to anticipate it. He landed on the side of his stomach, face bright red where the volleyball had made contact with his face.

      “Maybe I am,” Tsukishima responded, clearly unfazed by his near-fall. “But I’ll have you know that I won’t be the last to fall.” Tsutomu stared in awe, not quite used to hearing his friend sound so _cool_. Well, at least until Kageyama butted in.

      “Tsukishima, stop trying to sound cool. You fell over when some elementary brat shot you in the leg with a BB gun,” Kageyama quipped, a smirk plastered to that face of his. “Not to mention, you always trip over that library rug in the children’s area.”

      Tsutomu let a smirk cross his lips as he got back up onto his two feet. “You know, he tripped over the welcome rug earlier on this morning as well.”

      “Shut up, damnit,” Tsukishima snapped at the two dark-haired men who were currently too busy sharing Tsukishima stories to even notice that Tsukishima was getting irritated.

      It was when Matsukawa decided to walk over and add some more of his own stories that Tsukishima finally realises that these three idiots just _weren’t planning to shut up_. In the end, he walked over and ended up telling them even more stories about him. The four of them stood on the court, laughing and joking with one another while volleyballs rolled around the court from time to time.

      And sometimes, _just sometimes_ , Tsukishima’s eyes lingered on Kageyama’s for longer than necessary. And sometimes, Kageyama’s eyes did the same. Neither of them minded, not one bit.


	22. Won't You Come Home?

      The day went on as usual, the four men playing volleyball until Seijoh came to take over the court. Kindaichi and Kunimi were zooming back to Matsumoto in a lime-green car, bitching about how much they disliked Kageyama already. He was too _intense_.

      Yamaguchi busied himself with cleaning up around the gym while trying his best to avoid Kageyama and Tsukishima. He’d taken a leaf out of the dark-haired man’s book when it came to cleaning up every tiny little thing _imaginable_.

      Kenma was working away in his home, finishing up some coding for his latest game idea. He wasn’t sure how it was going to turn out, but he was hoping that it would be a hit. He’d liked the idea initially, but just because _he_ liked it doesn’t mean that everyone else would share the same sentiment.

      Yaku was getting ready for his evening shift at Sakanoshita, rushing a little since he’d only just made it back from Lev’s house. The Russian had decided to spam Yaku with countless kaomojis, so Yaku had decided to go and threaten him in person. One thing had led to another, and now the host was rushing to get ready for work. Lev, on the other hand, was taking a bubble bath (it even had glitter in it! He’s a star after all; stars have to shine).

      Yamamoto was sitting in his car, singing along loudly to pop songs at full volume. He wished that he had someone that he could sing with. (Even if they couldn’t sing. He didn’t care.)

      And Oikawa was sitting downstairs, staring at his alcohol cabinet. Kuroo had locked it before leaving to go to practice with Seijoh, just as he’d promised. Thankfully, the fangirls had decided to feed on a different household at last, but they’d left their residue behind. Empty boxes of Pocky, BL manga and lipstick tubes were lying around haphazardly. Oikawa would have to sort it out when the time came.

      There was a knock on the door. Oikawa was determined to ignore it. But when he heard the handle _rattling_ , he could feel himself getting scared. The brunette crept into the hallway, holding a remote out in front of him.

      “Oi! Are you a fangirl? I’ll give you my autograph, just don’t—”

      Iwaizumi stepped through the door, looking more tired and weary than Oikawa had ever seen him look. Oikawa’s eyes widened at the sight of him. The remote slipped out of his hands. He hadn’t been expecting to see Iwaizumi. He hadn’t been expecting to see the editor looking so downcast, either.

      “I came to get my laptop charger. I left it in our— I mean, your room.”

      “Wait, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa stepped towards the editor.

      “What is it?”

      “Remember… remember when we first met, and you told me that my novel was trash? You didn’t even bother to sugar-coat it. You just called it trash and started laughing when I got offended.” Iwaizumi seemed a little puzzled, but he nodded. “I thought you were an asshole then. A really cute, annoyingly-mean asshole. But fate made the two of us go out together, fall for each other, _love_ each other… so…”

      “Is this where you start blubbering?” Iwaizumi knew his boyfriend — well, _ex-boyfriend_ — just a little too well. Oikawa shook his head.

      “N—No. Of course not,” Oikawa said, predictably enough blubbering over his words. He turned away from Iwaizumi and wiped away his tears. _Goddamnit. Why is he such an emotional wreck?_

      “Idiot,” Iwaizumi murmured to himself. “You know you’ll only start getting upset if you think about the past.”

      “But I don’t want it to be the past!” Oikawa turned around, clasped his hands together as if in prayer. “I was a bad boyfriend. I know that. I’m sorry! Please… I’m sorry.”

      Iwaizumi sighed. “I came for the charger, Oikawa.”

      The brunette nodded. “Alright.” He’d really fucked up. He _had_. Now that he was actually thinking about it, he didn’t blame Iwaizumi for thinking that he had a thing for Kuroo. There was no denying, the two of them were close. _Really_ close. They’d seen each other naked, they’d flirted, but it didn’t mean _anything_. Kuroo only ever went for blondes, after all. But how was Iwaizumi meant to know that when Oikawa never communicated it to him properly? Oikawa was bad at communication. That much seemed to be clear. He couldn’t put his true emotions out properly; he couldn’t be _himself_. But if he wanted to keep Iwaizumi in his life, he’d have to learn just how to do that.

      Oikawa had been thinking so hard that he didn’t even realise that Iwaizumi had gone upstairs until he heard the footsteps. Iwaizumi appeared at the bottom of the stairs just moments later. He had a _really_ sour look on his face.

      “Was Kuroo here, by any chance?”

      There was no point lying to Iwaizumi. After all, it was Oikawa’s cryptic-ness that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. So, Oikawa told him the truth. “Yes, he was.”

      “Alright.” Iwaizumi’s jaw was stiff, so stiff he could barely get that single word out. “That’s cool.”

      “For God’s sake, I’m _not_ fucking him!”

      “We’re over. I don’t care who you fuck.” Iwaizumi’s voice was just a little too harsh.

      “Yes you do,” Oikawa insisted. He grabbed Iwaizumi’s shoulders, even going as far as to shake the editor. “Come on, be honest with yourself.”

      “You’re talking to me about _honesty_? You?” Iwaizumi snorted. “That’s fucking ironic, isn’t it?”

      “Iwa-chan, as an editor, I would’ve thought that you’d be able to use the word _ironic_ correctly. If something’s ironic, it means that it’s happening in a way contrary to what is expected. Because of this, it usually causes wry amusement. So, you’re saying that me talking about honesty is ironic?”

      “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying, Oikawa. Now, if you don’t mind, some of us have jobs.” Iwaizumi brushed the brunette’s hands off his shoulders and turned towards the door. He was about to walk out, but stopped when he heard Oikawa yell out a loud “Wait!” that scared off some nearby crows.

      “Iwa-chan. I’m sorry,” Oikawa repeated.

      Oikawa’s response was his own front door being slammed in his face. _Ouch_. The brunette stepped back, let out a deep sigh. _Is he really that much of an asshole that he deserves a door in the face?_ Oikawa wasn’t sure. But, he needed to do _something_.


	23. Brainless Brainstorm

      Saturday evening came and went, giving wake to Sunday morning. Kageyama was fast asleep in his bed, sucking on his thumb as he slept. Tsukishima was also asleep in his bed at his own house, clutching a dinosaur figurine to his chest. Yamaguchi was walking along the concrete, looking for the small sign that read ‘Ishinohana’.

      “Yamaguchi!” Lev was running towards him, his long limbs flailing as he spread his arms out for a hug. Yamaguchi didn’t even bother to dodge him — he simply accepted the hug. He’d learnt a long time ago that trying to dodge Lev would usually end up with him getting accidentally elbowed, backhanded or worse.

      “Lev, he can’t breathe.” Yaku was standing there, looking at Lev as if the taller man were his son. The Russian pulled out of the hug, finally allowing Yamaguchi to take a deep breath of oxygen.

      “Oxygen’s never tasted so sweet before…”

      “Hey, hey. Kenma’s waiting inside for us.” Yamamoto was walking down, looking like a classic delinquent. Leather hoodie, ripped jeans and a pair of Jordans on his feet. “Let’s go, y’all.”

      “Y’all? Are you American now?”

      “We can’t all be halfies like you,” Yamamoto teased. The long-limbed Lev pouted, but he didn’t respond to the delinquent, much to everyone’s surprise. Lev _always_ had something to say.

      They all walked into Ishinohana, where Kenma was waiting with a latte in front of him. “You all took your time,” the blonde began to say, looking over at a clock which was minding its business on the wall. “I’ve been here for… twenty-three minutes.”

      “Sorry, Kenma,” the three men chorused as they slid into the booth with him. Kenma and Yamaguchi sat together while Yaku and Lev sat opposite from them. The booth only had enough room for four people.

      “Hey, where do I sit?”

      “There’s some chairs over there,” Kenma said, pointing in the general direction of some chairs. “Grab one and pull it over.”

      “Eh…” Yamamoto was feeling a bit salty about it, but he obliged. While he went to get his chair, the four men began to brainstorm.

      “So, let’s think,” Yaku began to say. “Yamaguchi, do you have any kind of _proof_ you could show Kageyama? You know, like any selfies you took with him when you were rooming together—”

      “Or any condoms that you kept as souvenirs,” Lev quipped. Neither of the other three men bothered to inform Lev that used condoms were gross and out-of-the-question. The Russian didn’t seem to embrace logic very well.

      Yamaguchi thought hard before responding. “Well, it was only two years ago, so… I do have an old shirt of his that somehow got mixed up with my stuff. He wouldn’t let me take pictures with him. I didn’t even have his number,” Yamaguchi huffed. “He said that we were rooming together so I didn’t need it.”

      “I can’t believe you spent almost four months with that asshole,” Yamamoto said. He’d returned with a plastic chair and he was now pulling it up to the table, folding his arms once he’d settled down. “If you’d mentioned it to one of us back then, we would’ve shown him _what’s what_.”

      “Honestly…” Yamaguchi sighed. “Maybe I should be mature and leave the issue alone. They’re in a happy relationship. I shouldn’t ruin that.” He’d noticed the changes in Kageyama. He’d become slightly more open, a bit more peppy. He’d stopped working so hard, instead opting to come into work later. He was changing for the better. If Yamaguchi were to go and plant seeds of doubt into his mind, chances were that Kageyama would go back to being the nervous ol’ guy he’d been when Yamaguchi first met him.

      “Fuck that! I say tell him,” Lev said.

      “Do it or I will,” Yamamoto insisted.

      “Don’t pressure him,” Kenma said. “You have to remember that Tsukishima and Kageyama have known each other a long time. They could be childhood friends, for all we know. There’s no reason for Kageyama to believe his co-worker over Tsukishima, someone he loves and respects.”

      “Didn’t we come here to brainstorm?!” Lev seemed frustrated. “I was thinking about all the different weapons we could use to take Shittyshima out—”

      “No weapons,” the three of them scolded.

      “An AK 47, a pistol, Smith and Wesson—”

      “ _No weapons_ ,” the three yelled. Lev folded his arms in frustration, but decided to leave the subject for now. _He can convince them later_.

      “Kenma has a point, but listen. Kageyama deserves the truth, doesn’t he? I say you go and find him tomorrow and tell him everything about Tsukishima. If it’s true that Tsukishima was planning on hiding it from him, then you can fuck shit up. Kageyama gets mad, breaks things off with Tsukishima and then you’re left to be the shoulder for him to cry on,” Yamamoto said, getting a strangely devious look on his face. “You steal Tsukishima’s man and roll up to his workplace with Kageyama in tow. You can break his heart and steal Kageyama’s at the same time. Double win, don’t you think?”

      Yamaguchi wasn’t going to lie. The idea appealed to him; it really did. He knew that Tsukishima didn’t deserve to hold the information back from Kageyama. In fact, maybe it would teach Tsukishima a lesson. It would teach him _not to be such a fucking asshole_.

      “Hmm…”

      “Yamaguchi. It’s not like you,” Kenma urged. “I dislike Tsukishima as much as anyone else, but there’s a better way to carry it out.”

      It didn’t matter. Kenma’s voice of reason was being drowned out by Yaku’s evil chants, Lev’s crazy ideas and Yamamoto’s manic laughing. On top of that, Yamaguchi seemed like he’d been swayed at last. There was nothing Kenma could do to stop his best friend from falling into this trap. But… he knew that things would only get worse from here.

***

      Come Monday morning, Kageyama was on video call with Tsukishima. Since the blonde had been busy with family business, he’d been unable to spend Sunday with Kageyama. However, that didn’t mean that Tsukishima hadn’t sent him a few texts over the course of Sunday. Kageyama had spent his free day at the local cinema with his parents. They’d gone out for some food afterwards, which had proved fun. Kageyama’s mother had finally reached out to a new doctor who had proscribed some medicine for her. While Akane had been reluctant to accept money from her son, she eventually gave in with much coercion. Now, the medicine seemed to be doing wonders. She could walk around and sit down without too much pain. It wouldn’t last long, the doctor had warned, but it was worth seeing how long it would work.

      “Hey, Tsukishima.” The blonde _desperately_ wanted to ask Kageyama to call him ‘Tsukki’ like he had during their first _proper_ kiss, but it would probably end up making Kageyama all flustered.

      “What is it?”

      “You’re not planning on turning up at my workplace unannounced, right?” Kageyama rolled his eyes at his phone screen. He was sitting in his kitchen, eating some tamago gohan at the same time.

      “No, don’t worry. I’ve got library work today.” Tsukishima smirked. “Why, you want me to?”

      “No, you’re fine. I’m meant to take out the trash, not invite it inside.”

      “Oh, so you’re taking me out tonight? Thanks!” Tsukishima grinned. “Where are we going?”

      “To your house. I want sake.”

      “All you do is leech off me.” Tsukishima clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Asshole. Drinking up all my sake. I won’t have any left by the end of this month.” He actually appeared serious for a couple of moments, but then he broke into a smirk. “Would you still want my sake if I poisoned it?”

      “I don’t care what happens to the sake. I’ll drink it.”

      Tsukishima shook his head. “And that, my friend, is how you’ll get killed. Now, it looks like the traffic’s starting up again. Probably not a good idea for me to talk and drive, right?”

      “You’re driving?!” Kageyama hadn’t even _noticed_. Tsukishima was dressed up, looking just as business-y as he usually did. He didn’t wear ties, but he didn’t _need_ to. He was business enough without them.

      “Yep. Now, unless you want me to die, I’m hanging up.”

      “Alright. See you, Tsukki.” Kageyama allowed himself to grin in satisfaction when he saw how the blonde’s face flushed a bright red. He’d call Tsukishima by the nickname when he least expected it. _That_ would amuse Kageyama for quite some time.

***

      When Kageyama walked into the staffroom, he wasn’t surprised to see that Yamaguchi was in there. The brunette seemed to stay in there quite often, actually. However, he _was_ surprised to see that he was holding up a shirt saying ‘I’m a FINEosaur’, complete with a little cartoon dinosaur on the side.

      “Kageyama-san,” Yamaguchi began to say. “I think there’s something you should know.”

      “What? Did the boss say something?”

      “No, it’s… it’s not to do with work.” The brunette sighed. “It’s to do with Tsukishima.”

      “Oh. What is it?” Yamaguchi was expecting Kageyama to seem somewhat shocked, but the man didn’t look too bothered. He only seemed vaguely interested, but not really focused on what Yamaguchi was saying.

      “Well, you should know something. Tsukishima… I was with him during university,” Yamaguchi began to say. “We shared a dorm room together.”

      “You were a thing,” Kageyama said non-committedly. “I know. He told me. What, is it a problem?”

      Yamaguchi seemed shocked for a couple of moments. _Huh? Tsukishima actually told him?_ The brunette found it hard to believe. All he could do was stand there, flushing when he realised that he probably looked weird as hell in front of Kageyama right now. He put the shirt down and looked up at Kageyama, who didn’t seem affected by anything. _Of course. University was two years ago. Why should Kageyama care?_

      “No. There’s no problem,” Yamaguchi said at last. _Of course Tsukishima told him. The blonde’s treating Kageyama the way he wanted to be treated back when he was in university. It’s so unfair. So unfair…_

      “Okay.” Kageyama went to the fridge, placed his bento inside and shrugged off the thin jacket he’d donned before leaving. There had to be _something_ that Yamaguchi could say… _something_ …

      “He’s not someone you can trust,” Yamaguchi said at last.

      Kageyama’s head turned so fast that Yamaguchi thought that it was about to snap off. The look of indignation on Kageyama’s face made Yamaguchi regret saying the words. “I’ve known him for years,” Kageyama snapped. Yamaguchi was shocked at his sudden change in demeanour, this _aura_ that was coming off his body. But he continued to speak.

      “That only makes finding out the truth even harder,” Yamaguchi said.

      “What are you trying to say?” Kageyama walked towards Yamaguchi, his indignation becoming even more apparent. When Yamaguchi didn’t respond, Kageyama continued to speak. “Listen, I don’t care if you dated him. That was two years ago. This is now. So, stay out of my personal life. We’re co-workers. Nothing more.” He didn’t sound angry. He was calm, calculated in the way he spoke. That didn’t make the words hurt any less, though.

      “Sorry,” Yamaguchi quietly muttered. Kageyama didn’t bother to acknowledge him with a nod this time. He simply took a step back and walked out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him. _It’s official. He’s completely, one hundred percent destroyed his chances of getting Kageyama to notice him_. Yamaguchi thought back to a rumour he’d heard on social media, where if you flick the lights on and off exactly eight times while saying “senpai, notice me” (eight times for good luck) then your chosen senpai will finally notice you. Even though it probably wouldn’t work, he was still going to try it. Maybe, just maybe, the gods would hear his pleas.

      Eight light-flickers later, he’d managed to break the light bulb in the room. _Damnit_. His luck really wasn’t looking up today. At this rate, Kageyama was never going to notice him. He just _kept_ messing up, time and time again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: even though I'm British, I say y'all more than is healthy


	24. Relationship Status

      Come ten o’clock in the evening, Kageyama was practicing his serve in the gym like he usually did. It just so happened that Oikawa was watching from the stands, silently seething. _Why can someone like him serve better than me? Why is he so accurate?_ It was pissing Oikawa off, it really was.

      It wasn’t long before Kageyama turned towards the stand, having spotted a brown cowlick sticking up from behind one of the chairs. _Of course_. He didn’t bother to speak on it though; he didn’t want to engage in conversation with Oikawa. It didn’t matter though. The brunette was already getting up and walking out of the stands, headed straight for Kageyama. _Fuck_.

      “Hello, Tobio-chan.” Oikawa grinned. “I had a dream I was beating you up today. One of the best dreams of my life.”

      Kageyama wasn’t sure how to respond. Back when he was in junior high, his bullies wouldn’t _dream_ about beating him up. They just would. This was a slight improvement, Kageyama thought.

      “Why do you keep coming here?”

      “I told you.” The grin on his face suddenly turned into something more sinister, something that Kageyama didn’t like. “I’m toying around with you, Tobio-chan.”

      Kageyama was pretty sure he was showing obvious signs of fear right now. _Maybe he should just quit his job here, like everyone keeps saying. Maybe…_

      “So, instead of working even harder to get back on the court, you just start wasting away like some tired athlete.” Kageyama snorted. _Uh-oh. He’s turning into Tsukishima, isn’t he? He’s going to get himself slammed into the ground if he keeps it up_. The look Oikawa was beginning to give him was making him want to run away, but he held his ground. “The court was never yours to have.” Seijoh. That was the team Kageyama had always imagined he’d play for one day. That’s why it frustrated him that someone like _Oikawa_ had been in that spot, someone who didn’t even seem to care that much.

      Oikawa stepped forwards so that he was on the court, tilting his head up so that it gave him the illusion of being above Kageyama in every way possible. “So, you’re saying that a little cleaner boy like you should be in my spot?”

      “I looked up to you, you know.” Kageyama shook his head. “I looked up to you! On the screens, you seemed so engaged. On the court, you were like a martyr. You were a king, in every sense of the word. But then I actually spoke to you and you… you’re no king. You’re not worthy of the court.”

      “Aww, you looked up to me? How cute.” Oikawa’s tone clearly indicated otherwise. “I’m pretty sure that fans don’t go stealing their idol’s phone so that they can sell all the information and ruin their idol’s life in the process. Yup, pretty sure. You also left your grubby fingerprints all over the damn thing. You know how much my phone cost?”

      “You dislike me. I dislike you. So, stop coming here. Or, you might just find a new king on the court.”

      Oikawa gritted his teeth together. He didn’t want to see someone like _Tobio_ taking his place. No way. He wasn’t going to let someone younger than him become the new ‘star setter of Seijoh’.

      “Try it, and I’ll destroy you for real.”

      “Go on.” Kageyama was holding his ground, staring Oikawa dead in the eye. His heart was thumping, but he was managing not to make his fear visible. He’d figured out what kind of man Oikawa was — he was the type to prey on any signs of weakness. So, all Kageyama had to do was avoid showing any weaknesses.

      “I’ll see you tomorrow, _Tobio-chan_.” Oikawa stormed off, pushing the double doors open and stomping off through them. He was most likely headed on his way outside. More importantly, Kageyama needed to figure out _how he kept getting in when all the doors were locked_.

      Once Kageyama was _sure_ that Oikawa had left, he sank to his knees at last, his heart feeling like it would bounce up into his throat and right out of his mouth. That had been nerve-wracking. Kageyama felt like his mental capabilities had melted away. _Well… that’s enough volleyball for tonight_.

***

      Kageyama decided to drive to Tsukishima’s house that night. His phone had died, so he couldn’t warn the blonde beforehand, but he was pretty sure that Tsukishima wouldn’t mind. After all, he’d told Tsukishima that he’d be dropping by earlier on.

      When he turned up to the door, the two did their usual routine. Tsukishima would try and punch Kageyama; the cleaner would dodge and he’d invite himself in. That was how it always went.

      “How was volleyball practice?”

      Kageyama shuddered, remembering the conversation he’d had with Oikawa. “The usual.”

      “Good, good.” Tsukishima took his arm and led him into the living room, where a fresh bottle of sake was set out. “I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about coming by.”

      “Nope.” Kageyama flopped down onto Tsukishima’s velvet couch, allowing his weary body to relax into the warmth of it. “Although… I need to talk to you about something.”

      At this, Tsukishima’s ears perked up. “Oh? What is it?”

      “Yamaguchi was saying something about how I shouldn’t trust you.” Kageyama’s eyes were becoming intense, glare-y. Although, that wasn’t on purpose. He just glared whenever he thought hard about something. “Did you two have a bad breakup or something?”

      _That bastard_ , Tsukishima thought. The blonde cleared his throat, turned to face Kageyama. “Something like that. He wanted more from me, I couldn’t offer more.”

      Kageyama’s eyebrows furrowed together. “More? What do you mean more?”

      “You know. Flowers, relationship status… that kind of thing.”

      “So… like what we have?”

      “Yeah.” Tsukishima smiled. “What we have. Now, I got your favourite sake out. It’s the one from Kyushu…”

      “Gimme.” Kageyama didn’t even bother to pour it out into the flutes. He simply swigged it straight from the bottle, causing Tsukishima to recoil in disgust.

      “You’re such a slob.”

      Kageyama paused his swigging to look over at Tsukishima. “Die.”

      “I hope you choke on that bottle.”

      “I’ll choke on something else,” Kageyama muttered, continuing his swigging. _Wait, does he know what he just implied?_ The tips of Tsukishima’s ears were becoming a pinkish red. Kageyama was a slob in every way possible, but he still had such an effect on Tsukishima. The blonde was glad that Kageyama had already forgotten about what he’d said about Yamaguchi. He’d definitely need to talk to the brunette, though. It looked like Yamaguchi was out for revenge.

***

      It was no surprise that Tsukishima was waiting at the entrance to the Tokyo Gymnasium upon Yamaguchi’s arrival at eight a.m., the clouds crowding about the sleeping sun as it lazily rose up into the air. There was a dense orange glow surrounding it, as if it were trying to ward off any dangers that might be dancing around. Dangers like spiders, meteors and of course, _Yama-fucking-guchi_.

      “So, two years down the line and you’re still just as childish as ever.” Tsukishima looked far from impressed. “What are you trying to accomplish?”

      “You’re planning to use him like you used me, aren’t you?”

      “First of all, _I_ was the one who clarified that I didn’t want a relationship. You agreed to that. It was a fling,” Tsukishima said. The brunette was beginning to test his patience. “It was a fling that you couldn’t handle.”

      “I couldn’t handle it?!”

      “Well, right now, you’re acting like a fucking toddler who’s had his toy taken off him,” Tsukishima snarled. “Kageyama’s not your toy. Keep your hands off.”

      Yamaguchi could feel the tips of his ears flushing red. _He knows?_ His eyes were darting from Tsukishima’s eyes to the space behind him, waiting to see if there would be any opening for him to escape. There was none. The brunette sighed.

      “I don’t know what you mean.”

      “I wasn’t implying anything.” Tsukishima stepped forward. “But Yamaguchi. Don’t even think of trying anything on him. Don’t you dare.” The blonde was beginning to feel slightly fearful. He didn’t like the idea of having Kageyama _swept_ out of his arms by this brunette standing here. The both of them knew damn well what was happening.

      “What, you’re meant to be better than me? You’re the one who uses men for your own pleasure,” Yamaguchi snapped. “Say, have you picked up any STDs yet?”

      “Nope, but I’ve picked up a pretty annoying pain in my ass. That’s you, by the way.” Tsukishima shook his head, turned to face the sky. “I’ve known Kageyama eight years. You’ve known him for what, eight minutes? By the way, just so you know, he’s not comfortable around you. It’s easy to tell based on his body language. He usually folds his arms as a defence mechanism and avoids looking you directly in the eyes. It’s a sign that he’d rather you stay away from him. But of course, you wouldn’t know that, would you? You’re more focused on fucking him to get your own back on me—”

      “Who the hell said anything about fucking?”

      Tsukishima scoffed. “See, you ignore everything else I said and focus on the part about fucking. You’re proving my point, Yamaguchi.”

      “I don’t want to fuck him!”

      “That’s great.” Tsukishima smiled. “Now, will you please stop making Kageyama uncomfortable with your persistence? It’s creepy.”

      Yamaguchi was shaking with rage. He hated Tsukishima… he hated him _so_ much. This blonde that just towers over everyone with his height; his aura of arrogance; his _achievements_ … Yamaguchi hated him. “I liked him before I knew about you. It wasn’t about getting my back on you, so you can stop thinking of yourself so highly.”

      “What, so now you’re going to try and push me out of the picture frame?”

      “You’re going to use him. I won’t let that happen.”

      Tsukishima pushed the brunette against the adjacent wall, his irritation suddenly becoming very apparent. “Yamaguchi. I’ll tell you one time, and I won’t say it again. You don’t want to mess with me.”

      “What, because you’ve got a law degree? What are you going to do, hit me with a subpoena?”

      “No. I’ll hit you with my fists.” Tsukishima grabbed the brunette by the collar. He was still restraining himself though. He didn’t actually _plan_ on hurting Yamaguchi, but he had to stop the brunette. It would get messy otherwise. Yamaguchi was hell-bent on revenge, so much that he was beginning to forget what was around him.

      “Oh, really? What will Kageyama think about his _darling boyfriend_ using his fists on his co-worker?” Yamaguchi didn’t even seem fazed by Tsukishima. He was one of the few people that wasn’t intimidated by the blonde. “Say, if you could do it to me, what’s to stop you from doing it to him?”

      Tsukishima’s hands were beginning to tremble. _When did Yamaguchi get so confident?_

      “Yamaguchi, shut up.”

      “Sorry, _Tsukki_.” Yamaguchi clearly wasn’t sincere. They stayed like that for several moments, the brunette staring hard into Tsukishima’s eyes until the blonde let him go at last.

      “I’ll make you pay for what you did in university,” Yamaguchi said, beginning to walk away. “I’ll make you pay, Tsukki.”

      “You’ll make me pay? I don’t want to deal with your student loan.”

      The look Yamaguchi had on his face was so _vile_ that even the sun retreated behind the clouds, casting a dark shadow over the entire building. The blonde still irritated him, _really_ irritated him. He didn’t speak, though. He activated the automatic doors to the gymnasium and walked inside, leaving Tsukishima fuming with rage on the outside. He was there glaring at the double doors, glaring so hard that his eyes were beginning to ache. _What’s he going to do?_

***

      When Kageyama came into work at nine p.m., he was surprised to find that Takeda was handing him a brand new contract, detailing the terms of his pay and his working hours. He’d been given Saturdays off, shorter working hours — ten a.m. to eight p.m., rather than nine a.m. to nine p.m. — his pay had increased from five figures to six _and_ a bonus had been added for all the overtime he’d done. On top of that, the contract detailed that he would be allowed more vacation days off. The bonus had already been wired to his account, but the new salary would be effective immediately. Takeda looked a bit sulky about it, but the cleaner was over the moon.

      “Thank you!” Kageyama clutched the contract to his chest as he danced over to the staffroom, noting that the brunette was hunched over his phone as per usual. At his entrance, Yamaguchi looked up from his phone and smiled.

      “Morning,” said Yamaguchi. Kageyama nodded in response. He folded up the contract, slipped it into his pocket and proceeded to place his bento into the fridge like he did every morning.

      “Say, Kageyama-san,” continued the brunette, searching for _any_ sort of conversation possible. “I feel like we got off to a bad start. What do you say we start again?”

      “Starting again isn’t possible,” was Kageyama’s blunt response. “I don’t forget things.” He didn’t understand why Yamaguchi was so damn _persistent_.

      “Well, what do you say we try ramen again?” The brunette was still smiling. “I’m sorry about how it went the first time…”

      It was then that Kageyama’s phone chose to ring. Yamaguchi didn’t need to see the caller ID to know who it was. Kageyama’s eyes had lit up with a certain glow that Yamaguchi never got to see. “Sorry. Got to take this.” He turned away from the brunette and answered the call, beginning to delve into the good news about his contract and his free Saturdays. Yamaguchi was sitting there, brooding in silence as he thought about his university days.

***

      The next few days passed along without a hitch, Kageyama and Yamaguchi working just as hard as they usually did while Seijoh came to train at the gym. Of course, Oikawa would come to watch Kageyama with a brooding look on his face every night, but nothing ever came of it. Kageyama would practice and Oikawa would observe until the time came for the both of them to go home. Once Saturday danced into view, Kageyama was bounding around the gym with pure excitement. Since it was his day off, he was going to play more volleyball. Tsukishima’s friends were coming down (even Kindaichi and Kunimi) since they wanted to play once again. So, of course Kageyama had been the first one to the gym.

      “Hey, Kageyama-san.” Yamaguchi was walking over to Kageyama with a smile on his face. For once, the cleaner wasn’t playing volleyball in his work clothes. He was wearing actual athletic clothes — kneepads, compression sleeves, the whole lot. Yamaguchi liked it.

      “Hello.” Kageyama nodded once to be polite. When the dark-haired cleaner didn’t speak any further, Yamaguchi knew that he needed to carry the conversation.

      “How’s volleyball going?”

      “Volleyball’s going somewhere?” Kageyama looked genuinely confused. He wasn’t glaring — his eyes were just slightly squinted as he thought to himself, trying to think of all the places where volleyball could go. _Or is volleyball a person? Who’s Volleyball?_

      “No, no.” Yamaguchi shook his head, got a little teasing smile on his face. “I mean, is volleyball going well?”

      “Oh. Yeah.”

      The door swung open, revealing five well-dressed men who looked ready to thrash souls on the court. And of course, Kageyama’s right-hand man. He’d already sussed out the brunette who was standing closer to Kageyama than necessary, the brunette with flushed cheeks and shaky hands. Tsukishima mentally cursed him as he walked over to Kageyama, who had already turned to face him.

      “Hey, Tsukishi—” The blonde grabbed Kageyama and kissed him all of a sudden, taking him by surprise. The both of them had never been a fan of PDA, so for Tsukishima to do this… it was unexpected. The blonde’s lips were warm and his hands were gentle on Kageyama’s shoulders.

      When they pulled away at last, the strongly irritated look on Yamaguchi’s face was unavoidable. The rest of the men hadn’t wanted to witness their PDA, so they’d opted for warming up on the court. Kageyama had gone bright red, but Tsukishima felt proud of himself, really proud. He looked over at Yamaguchi. Although the blonde didn’t speak, his words were made clear in his stance. _He’s mine. Back off_. Yamaguchi forced a smile onto his face, nodded once and excused himself.

      “What was that about?”

      Tsukishima smiled. “I haven’t seen you in a couple of days. I’ve missed you.” They’d spoken on the phone a little over the past few days, but Kageyama hadn’t driven over to his house like he usually would. The cleaner had insisted on spending more time with his family, so Tsukishima didn’t want to intrude.

      “Still… you can’t _kiss_ me, idiot…”

      The blonde clicked his tongue. “Fine. If my team beats you, I win a kiss off you. If your team beats mine, you win a kiss off me.” Tsukishima was looking _way_ too smug.

      “Idiot. Who competes for a kiss?”

      “Me. Now, let’s go do those warmups.” Kageyama glared at the blonde, who was _still_ smirking to himself. But he did as Tsukishima said, walking over to the group who were now doing side-steps. It wouldn’t be long before they formed their two teams — Tsukishima, Matsukawa and Tsutomu against Kageyama, Kindaichi and Kunimi. It wasn’t the _best_ match-up, considering that Kindaichi couldn’t _stand_ Kageyama, but they were all playing to win.


	25. Becoming the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he might be a cleaner, but he can still kick your ass

      “Kunimi! Why aren’t you running for the ball?!” Kageyama was starting to become frustrated, _really_ frustrated. The small man wasn’t even bothering to run for chance balls. He was just standing there as if he were some scarecrow, watching as the match passed him by.

      “Hey, Mount Man.” Tsukishima was at the net, holding his hand up in order to grab Kageyama’s attention. “Don’t mind.” Kageyama nodded. He took a deep breath, cleared his mind. _It’s fine. Kunimi will run for it next time, won’t he?_

      He didn’t run for it the next time. Or the next. Kageyama was still managing to keep his frustration contained though, since he was just about managing to get by with his blocks and his tossing. The other team was slowly beginning to creep up on them, but Kageyama _still_ managed to keep himself from letting out another yell of frustration. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he ran back and forth, practically slaving at the court _just_ to get that ball to Kindaichi and Kunimi. They’d look at the ball, give it a half-assed slap and allow the opposition to send it flying down on their side of the court. The cheers of celebration from the opposition after every point didn’t help Kageyama’s temper much either. But, it wasn’t until a crucial moment that Kageyama was no longer able to hold it in. He’d tossed to Kindaichi, one of his quick sets. But, he’d completely turned his back on the ball and allowed it to just… _hit the ground_.

      The ball pattered off out of bounds, scoring Tsukishima’s team yet another point. Even though Kageyama’s team was still somehow winning at 21-19, he was frustrated. _Really_ frustrated.

      “Kindaichi! Why didn’t you hit my toss?!”

      “It’s too fucking fast! Do you think we’re robots?” The turnip-headed spiker wheeled around to face Kageyama, having snapped at last. “You’ve been barking orders at us ever since we stepped on this damn court!”

      “Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to if you _just moved faster_! How hard is it?! You move your legs. You run. Run, damnit!” Kageyama wheeled around. “And _you_. Especially you. We’ve lost so many points because of you!” Kunimi didn’t appear to care. He just blinked back at the setter, who appeared as if he’d explode of rage at any given moment.

      Tsukishima put up his hands in a ‘time-out’ gesture and ducked his head over the net to intervene. “Oi, Kageyama. Calm down—”

      “You’re nothing but a dictator king,” Kindaichi snarled, sticking his middle finger up at Kageyama. “We’re just your commoners, slaving away to get the ball at your command. Eh?”

      “Don’t call me that.”

      “King. King-y king-edy king _king_ ,” Kindaichi said, almost in a sing-song kind of voice. “What you gonna do, King? Nah, you ain’t gone do shit, little-widdle dictator king—” It was as if Kageyama’s fist had a mind of its own. It went swinging straight for Kindaichi’s face, but Kageyama’s target was gone within an instant and it was coming towards him. Kindaichi’s fist blew Kageyama back onto the ground, although the cleaner just _about_ managed to regain his balance before he could fall over completely.

      “Alright,” Kageyama said, rolling up his non-existent sleeves. “It’s on.” He stormed in Kindaichi’s direction yet again, oblivious to all of the people on the court that were yelling at them to _stop fighting_ (well, except Kunimi. He didn’t give a shit). Kageyama’s fists were swinging once again, this time managing to land punches of varying strength on Kindaichi’s torso. However, Kindaichi chose to drive the metal-capped tip of his shoe right into Kageyama’s face, forcing his entire body upwards before landing back down onto the court at last. If Kageyama had started bleeding, he didn’t notice. He was focused on breathing in and out, focused on his opponent. _Funny how Kindaichi puts more effort into beating his ass than he does into winning this match_. He spat on the court, a malevolent smirk lacing his lips as he _leapt_ onto Kageyama’s body and began to land even more hits on him. Kageyama, drawing back his fist with every last ounce of strength he could muster, delivered a well-aimed punch at Kindaichi’s face. This time, he drew blood. It dripped from Kindaichi’s nose and onto Kageyama’s clothes, but he didn’t even care. He was just focused on winning this _fight_ , damnit. He grabbed Kindaichi’s face and twisted his own body so that their positions were reversed. Now, Kageyama was in a position to win. Kindaichi was heavily panting beneath him, nose bloodied and eyes drifting shut. Kageyama had managed to hold out longer than Kindaichi.

      “I might be a cleaner,” Kageyama began, readying himself to deliver the finishing blow, “but I can still kick your ass.”

      Just as he went to deliver the hit that would put an end to this bloody dispute, Kageyama felt arms grabbing his, arms stopping him from hitting Kindaichi. If Kindaichi had still been motivated, he might’ve gone to kick Kageyama off him. But, he was thoroughly drained of all motivation. To be honest, he didn’t even _care_ anymore. He could let Kageyama have this victory and then tell all his friends back at home that it was _him_ who actually won the fight, not Kageyama.

      “Kageyama!” It was Tsukishima, who had been trying his best to stop the two from fighting. However, Tsukishima being as scrawny as he was, he got the feeling that Kindaichi would break him in half if he tried to interfere. “Come on, damnit! Are you trying to lose your job?”

      “Let me go,” Kageyama snapped, struggling in Tsukishima’s tight hold. Usually, Kageyama would’ve been able to fend Tsukishima off, but the fight had tired him out quite a bit too. “I told him not to call me that _word_!”

      “It’s just a word—”

      “And he spat on the court. You don't spit on the court!” Kageyama was panting heavily, _still_ trying to pull away from Tsukishima. “Besides, it's not just a word. It’s more than that. It’s a _label_. It’s—”

      “It’s in the past. Now, _come on_. You’re taking a timeout. Water, now.” Before Kageyama could protest, Tsukishima had decided to drag him off over to a quiet corner. Tsutomu had rushed over to help the bleeding Kindaichi, while Kunimi looked around himself with the same impassive expression on his face. The drama might’ve been over for now, but there was no denying that the tension on the court still remained.

      Meanwhile, Seijoh were sat in the crowd, discussing to themselves. Nobody had noticed that they’d slipped into the room right before the beginning of the match — they’d all been too focused on the court. They _were_ technically meant to be using the court right now, but they’d decided to let the men have their fun. They hadn’t expected to see a setter who could be just as good as Oikawa, though. While Akaashi was _good_ , he wasn’t Oikawa-level good. But this guy…

      “That dark-haired setter’s good. He’s also decent at fighting,” Daichi observed, nodding over at Coach Ukai. “I mean, did you see that curve serve of his? He scored eleven points with that serve alone. He was able to aim it at the weak receivers _and_ he’s also got a pretty strong block.”

      “That’s true,” Ukai responded. “But he also seems pretty hot-headed.”

      “That turnip guy was provoking him,” Kuroo pointed out. “He’s no Tendou-level provocateur, but he seems pretty irritating. I mean, is he even trying?”

      “No. He cannot hit the tosses being thrown for him, so he’s not trying,” Ushijima explained. “They appear to be quite fast. It is no surprise that the common office worker would not be able to keep up with a ball of that speed. Even _I_ would need practice in order to hit a toss like that.”

      “Actually, that’s true. Those tosses were fast as hell,” Kuroo said. “Although, I bet Hinata would be able to hit— wait, where’s Hinata?” The team’s eyes widened consecutively as they realised that the middle blocker had decided to bound right over to the court. Kindaichi had stormed off with both of his middle fingers raised after having Kageyama pried off his body. Of course, Kunimi had followed after him. Tsukishima was standing on his own, looking perplexed; Matsukawa was tending to Kageyama’s cuts and Kageyama himself looked broody.

      “Hey! I’ll hit your toss!” The orange-haired man grinned. “I’m Hinata Shouyou, Seijoh’s ace—”

      “Ushijima’s the ace, idiot!” Kuroo grabbed Hinata by the ear, causing him to squeal. “Come on, don’t interfere.”

      “Wait! I want to hit his toss! It looks so _cool_ ,” Hinata urged, breaking free of Kuroo’s hold. He bounced right up to Kageyama, grabbed him by the forearms. “Please? I want to hit your toss!”

      “His nose is _bleeding_ —”

      “Alright.” Kageyama wiped his nose and picked up the ball from the ground. Matsukawa and Kuroo both looked confused, but they didn’t bother to argue the point. Tsukishima looked like he was about to protest, but then Bokuto appeared behind him, complimenting his blocking and quick thinking. Hinata was standing, waiting for the toss to go up in the air. Without warning, it zoomed right past Hinata, so fast that the boy couldn’t keep up with it.

      “Again! I’ll hit it!”

      Kageyama sighed. “No—”

      “Please! Toss it when I jump and I’ll hit it!”

      Kageyama let out an exaggerated sigh, but he nodded. It looked like the rest of Seijoh had decided to come down now. One of them threw the ball to Kageyama while Hinata got back into position. The two engaged in brief eye contact. Then, Hinata sprinted right up to the net. Kageyama threw the toss just as Hinata’s feet left the floor. This time, their movements connected. The ball zoomed directly onto the ground, pattering over to Bokuto and Tsukishima. Everyone was speechless for a moment, unable to believe what had happened. That had been even _faster_ than Oikawa and Hinata’s quick together.

      “Hinata,” Kuroo finally said. “Why did you close your eyes there?”

      “What,” came the simultaneous chant of disbelief, “his eyes were closed?!”

      “Well… I trusted that the ball would come to me,” Hinata said sheepishly. Meanwhile, Kageyama was trying to slip away unnoticed.

      “Wait! Glarey guy!” Kageyama looked up, his nose still dripping with blood. “Yeah, that’s you! Join our team,” Kuroo insisted.

      “Kuroo-san, you can’t just invite people to the team,” Akaashi said.

      “Watch us!” Kuroo, Bokuto and Hinata had banded together to create the ‘Kageyama Three’, all determined to bring him into the team. After seeing a quick like _that_ , they couldn’t just let this guy waste his talents by cleaning the court rather than actually _playing_ on it. “Join our team!”

      Kageyama shook his head. “No,” he said, raising one hand to stop the blood that was dripping from his nose. “I can’t do that.” And before anyone could convince him otherwise, he left through the front door, dejection flooding his every sense as he walked further and further away from the court.

***

      Tsukishima and Kageyama were sitting in the blonde’s car, neither of them speaking. Kageyama had tried to hurry over to his own car so that he could go home and let his duvet swallow him up, but Tsukishima had been hurrying right after him. He’d persuaded Kageyama to come to his car and just… _calm down_. (He’d failed to realise that Kageyama was far from being angry.) Now, they were sitting in silence. After all, what could they say?

      Finally, Tsukishima broke the silence. “I’m sorry about Kindaichi. I’ll talk to him.”

      Kageyama shook his head. “It’s fine. I… I went too far.” The setter looked like he was close to tears. “The one time I get to play on a team, and I pushed everyone too far… I ruined it…”

      “Oi, don’t start pitying yourself. It’s weird.” Usually, something like that would’ve made Kageyama mutter a ‘shut up’ and pick his mood back up, but now… he seemed genuinely downcast about it. “Hey, Kageyama. Are you forgetting that Seijoh wants you to join them?”

      “I can’t.” He shook his head adamantly. “When… when did they even come in?”

      “Near the beginning of the match. You were serving, so you didn’t notice,” Tsukishima explained.

      “Kuroo was there,” Kageyama mentioned. “You used to be obsessed with him…”

      “No, that was a front. I actually liked you, not him,” the blonde said casually. “Sure, he’s attractive, but that’s all. You… we’ve been together for a long time.” He smiled, traced his thumb down Kageyama’s cheek. “I intend to keep you by my side for a long time. If that long time equals up to forever, then so be it.”

      “Tsukishima…” Even despite Kageyama’s disappointment in how the day had gone, he couldn’t help the relief that he felt at hearing those words. He’d been slightly worried about Tsukishima and Kuroo meeting in case the blonde decided that he wanted to be with the athlete, but it didn’t look like that was a concern. Not now.

      “Stop snivelling. You’ll stain the leather.” Tsukishima still had a fond smile on his face though. “You’ll also gross me out.”

      “Shut up.” Kageyama blew a raspberry at the blonde. “ _You’re_ gross.”

      Tsukishima clicked his tongue. “Get out of my car.”

      “Get out of this earth,” Kageyama retorted.

      “Get out of this galaxy.”

      “Get out of this _universe_.”

      “Get out of those clothes.” When Kageyama flushed a bright red, Tsukishima knew that he had won. The blonde had seen glimpses of pale porcelain skin before, visible whenever his shirt rode up as he moved to set the ball, but he’d never actually seen Kageyama without clothing in the eight years they’d known each other. Even during gym class, Kageyama would always go the extra mile to make sure that no-one saw his body. He was insecure; Tsukishima knew that. _How could Tsukishima make him less insecure?_

      “Pervert,” Kageyama muttered.

      “I’m only a pervert if I look.” Tsukishima pushed his glasses up on his face. “Don’t act so coy, Kageyama.”

      “Shut up!”

      “Hehe.” Tsukishima smirked.

      “Die.”

      “Do I get to choose how? If so, I’d like it if you sat on my face.”

      Kageyama didn’t even respond this time. His face was so red that Tsukishima could’ve easily mistaken him for the sun. But before Tsukishima could comment on it, Kageyama opened the car door and slipped out, shutting the door behind him. _Wait, what?_ Tsukishima hadn’t _actually_ been expecting Kageyama to leave the car. Then again, Kageyama’s car was still parked in its usual spot. Tsukishima rolled down the windows and called out for Kageyama, but the setter had already disappeared. _Did he go too far?_ Tsukishima was beginning to forget that Kageyama wasn’t used to anything sexual. It was times like this that he wished that he had people to confer with. His four friends were all straight, so they probably couldn’t help with anything.

      Either way, he was determined to figure out how far was too far.

 

**I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. You can slap me the next time you see me. (Maybe tonight if you don’t respond to this message.)**

**-Tsukishima [Sent 11:42]**


	26. It's Nationality Week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't originally intend for this chapter to be as long as it is, but oh well. Enjoy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

** Chapter Twenty-Six: It’s Nationality Week **

      “…and honestly, he was amazing! That kind of talent… it’s _crazy_. He had this one serve that dipped,” Kuroo said, animatedly acting out the motions with his flailing hands and arms, “and he had a really strong jump serve, it was insane; like the court was shaking with all the pressure and—”

      Oikawa launched a pillow at his best friend’s head.

      “What? Am I speaking too much?”

      Oikawa launched yet _another_ pillow at Kuroo’s head in response. The middle blocker sighed, flopping his head back on the couch he was sitting on.

      “Fine, fine. I get it. You hate the guy,” Kuroo said.

      “No, I just hate any potential competition.” It was clear that Oikawa didn’t want to hear about Kageyama. Honestly, Oikawa was offended that Kuroo would even dare mention the name ‘Kageyama’ in his humble abode. This was a Kageyama-free household. Oikawa would make a poster and hang it up _just so Kuroo remembered_. Oikawa would prefer it if Kageyama just went and _drowned in a pit of volleyballs_. Not only that, but a _deflated_ pit of volleyballs so that he couldn’t practice his setting while he was drowning _. Hmph. If he joins the team, I’m not letting him take my spot. No way in hell. I’ll push myself even harder if there’s even a chance that’ll happen. But I can’t even focus right now. Not without Iwa-chan…_

      “Kuroo. How do I get Iwa-chan back?”

      Kuroo kicked his feet onto the living room table (it’s fine, he’s wearing socks) while glancing over at the brunette who was despairing in his seat. “You’ve got to give it time, Oikawa.”

      “It’s been a week! A whole Japanese week!”

      “I’m pretty sure weeks don’t have nationalities…”

      “Seven Japanese days! One hundred and sixty-eight Japanese hours! Ten thousand and eighty—”

      “Japanese minutes, I get the point,” Kuroo interjected at last. “So, you said that you and Iwaizumi wanted different things from the relationship. Maybe you two just aren’t compatible enough…” Kuroo drifted off when he noticed that Oikawa looked like he was about to cry again. Sometimes, the brunette would seem as tough as nails and other times he’d sit down and cry at the thought of Iwaizumi. Oikawa was emotional; _too_ emotional.

      “Fuck that!” The brunette might’ve slapped his armrests if he wasn’t still sitting on Iwaizumi’s recliner chair. He didn’t want to hurt it (even if it wasn’t a sentient being). “I miss him!”

      “Just because you miss something doesn’t mean it’s good for you.” Kuroo sounded like he was speaking from experience, weirdly enough. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I know how you can be. Don’t push it too much, Oiks.”

      “You know what? I’m going to make him listen to me!” Oikawa pumped a triumphant fist into the air. “I know his favourite food. Agedashi tofu. I’ll just cook it and bring it to him…”

      “You can’t cook.”

      “Everyone can cook! Some people just do it better than others. Cooking is an art, Kuroo. Whether people choose to use mangled animal bodies as their art medium or curdled cow milk, it’s art.”

      “That got dark quick.”

      “I know.” Oikawa grinned. Kuroo should’ve been stunned at Oikawa’s sudden mood change, but he was honestly used to it after all these years of being friends with him. “Anyway, you don’t need to keep checking up on me. I’ve left the liquor cabinet alone. I’m being a good boy, I promise.”

      “I find that hard to believe,” Kuroo drawled. “Good isn’t in your vocabulary.”

      “Whatever.” Oikawa stood up, having found a new resolve at last. “I know what I’m going to do now. Mark my words, I’ll fix this situation.” Kuroo was about to warn Oikawa that it really wasn’t as easy as crying until Iwaizumi forgave him, but the brunette didn’t seem like he was willing to listen to any logic right now. Kuroo just sighed and waved one hand, prepared to deal with any collateral.

***

      “Iwaizumi-san?”

      The editor looked up from the manuscript he was reviewing. His co-worker was standing there, appearing just as peppy as usual. He let out a yawn, a clear indicator of his tiredness. If the yawn wasn’t enough to alert you to Iwaizumi’s exhaustion, the dark shadows beneath his eyes sure would. And if you were stupid enough to think that the shadowy eye look was just some sort of _fashion statement_ , the nearby recycling bin overflowing with empty Styrofoam cups of coffee would surely be enough to tell the average person that _Iwaizumi’s fucking exhausted_. “What is it?”

      “It’s eleven,” the grey-haired Sugawara began to say. “I’m going to go home. You wanna walk out together?” Ever since Iwaizumi had left Oikawa, he’d been staying at Sugawara’s place. As grateful as Iwaizumi was to Sugawara for his help, he just couldn’t settle down. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could think about was that damn _Oikawa_.

      “No, it’s fine.” The editor shook his head. The manuscripts piling up on his desk were beginning to give him a persistent headache. Constant spelling mistakes, syntax errors, _everything_. _How hard is it to figure out the fucking difference between your and you’re? One denotes possession, the other doesn’t_. Iwaizumi was irritating himself just by _looking_ at it. “I need to catch up with these. Have a good night, though.”

      “You too!” Sugawara grinned at his co-worker and skipped out of the office. Within moments, silence had fallen upon the empty building. In fact, Iwaizumi was pretty sure that everyone else would’ve gone home by now — even Shimizu, the boss. So, _why does he feel like he’s not alone_?

      “Oikawa, get out.”

      The brunette slipped out from the shadows with a sheepish look on his face, but he didn’t seem like he was willing to leave without a fight. Iwaizumi wasn’t surprised — in fact, he’d been expecting the brunette to turn up sooner or later — but he _was_ surprised by how Oikawa began to get onto his knees. He clasped his hands together and looked straight up at Iwaizumi, his eyes just as clear as they had been when Iwaizumi first met him.

      “I don’t like this! I don’t like being away from you, Iwa-chan! I don’t like it,” Oikawa yelled. “So, please. Come home…”

      Iwaizumi sighed. “Get off the floor, idiot. You know how many shoes have stepped on it?” He offered his hand to the brunette though, who took it gleefully. The two of them were now standing, looking into each other’s eyes. The moonlight was peeking through the windows, illuminating their faces in that greyish glow that seemed to electrify everything it touched.

      “I’ll be honest with you,” Oikawa began to say, lowering his voice. “There were times when I thought that we weren’t right for each other. Times where I considered putting my career above you. Times when I _did_ put my career above you. I was an asshole.”

      “No, that’s putting it lightly. You weren’t just an asshole. You were an asshole full of shit.” Oikawa was tempted to protest against Iwaizumi’s words, but when he noticed the look on the editor’s face, he knew that it wasn’t the time. Iwaizumi was a lot more hurt by Oikawa’s actions than he let on.

      “But, that doesn’t mean I was ready to give up. I didn’t realise until you left. I didn’t realise just how much I love you.” The brunette smiled. “I’m an idiot, but you knew that already. Right?”

      “You’re an idiot who gets drunk, overworks himself too much and never tells me anything about himself.” Iwaizumi sighed. “Hell, do I even know your favourite colour?”

      “You care?” Oikawa’s eyes were sparkling with glee.

      The editor let out a sigh. “You really are an idiot…”

      “It’s green,” the brunette said, looking down at the thick green sleeves of his alien hoodie. He’d bought this hoodie because the colour reminded him of Iwaizumi. Large, warm and always around him. Not to mention, the shade of green matched Iwaizumi’s eyes perfectly. “Like your eyes. Everywhere I see green, I feel happy. It reminds me of you.”

      Iwaizumi flushed a dark red. He hadn’t been expecting _that_ much affection from Oikawa. In fact, they’d never been that affectionate with one another outside of sex. “Stop being so affectionate.”

      “Then take me back,” Oikawa insisted.

      Iwaizumi couldn’t help but smile to himself. Oikawa really _was_ persistent when it counted, wasn’t he?

      “Why?”

      Oikawa seemed a bit shaken by the question, but he answered nevertheless. “Because I’m yours.”

      Iwaizumi touched Oikawa at last. His hands touched the brunette’s cheeks, urging his face just that bit closer to his. They were barely a hair’s width from each other when Iwaizumi spoke. “If I fuck you here, what happens afterwards?”

      Oikawa didn’t hesitate to respond. “Well, I’d like it if you know… we went home together. And if you gave me a backrub. We could shower together like we always do. I’ll even let you use one of my expensive face masks afterwards if you want. We’d share the same bed. I’d make you breakfast in the morning—”

      “Alright, goodbye.” Iwaizumi pulled away from the brunette, chortling loudly when he saw the look that Oikawa was giving him.

      “Hey! I can make really good eggs now! The chickens would be proud of me,” the brunette insisted with a pout on his face. Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at him, although his amusement was clear. _Thank God. So… he doesn’t hate me_ , Oikawa found himself thinking. Hell, he didn’t even know why he’d considered the possibility of Iwaizumi _hating him_. It was unthinkable.

      “You can’t even microwave your own food. Honestly, if it wasn’t for my cooking, you wouldn’t be Monthly Volleyball’s most attractive athlete.” The look of indignation that appeared on Oikawa’s face instantly had Iwaizumi bursting out into laughter, which only made Oikawa even _more_ irritated. Iwaizumi had really missed Oikawa, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. In fact, he was lucky the brunette hadn’t pointed out his red eyes; his fatigued slump of the shoulders.

      “Shut up. Let me take you home and I’ll show you,” the brunette insisted. He seemed hellbent on getting Iwaizumi to come home at last. “Although, you might not want to sleep in that blue shirt you always wear to bed.”

      Iwaizumi’s eyes widened at the mention of his shirt. “Eh? Why?”

      Oikawa’s cheeks were flushed with embarrassment now, his eyes averting slightly from the gaze of the editor. “Well… I was missing you… it smelt like you… so I might’ve used it while… you know, getting myself off.”

      “Oh my God.” Iwaizumi really _was_ laughing now; the tears were streaming down his cheeks and the chuckles were tearing from his throat, again and again. “You’re—you’re such… such an idiot…” He looked back up at Oikawa, whose cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment. It was rare to see someone like Oikawa looking so _embarrassed_. Actually, scratch that. It was rare to see someone like Oikawa not trying to _save himself_ from embarrassment. Iwaizumi was definitely enjoying this.

      “You… you were saying that I don’t open up to you enough.” Oikawa’s smile was becoming wobbly with embarrassment. “So, I’ll start. I’ve got a baseball bat under our bed because I’m scared that monsters will come for me if I sleep alone. They leave me alone when I’m with you because they’re scared of you.”

      Iwaizumi was tempted to laugh, but when he realised just how vulnerable Oikawa looked, he quelled his laughter. The brunette looked like he was about to cry any second.

      “When I was younger, I used to like playing outside. I’d take my volleyball and go into this forest while bumping it around. The forest was wide, had loads of space and sometimes you could find sweet stashes if you climbed to the tops of the trees. It was the hangout space for a lot of kids my age. One day, I stayed out a bit too late. It got dark. And... I got lost. Suddenly, everything around me became sinister. The tree branches grabbed at my body. Roots on the ground made me trip. Strong gusts of wind blew my volleyball away from me. And me being stupid, I ran to try and find it. It was signed by one of my favourite players,” Oikawa recalled with a wistful smile on his face, although the distress in his expression was still clear to Iwaizumi. “Faces began to appear. I heard growling. And I started running. There were wolves after me, but it was like they were speaking to me. They jumped me. Took me down. I still tried to run, still tried to escape. That’s the story behind this scar.” Oikawa lifted his hoodie up slightly, showing off the long pinprick scar which ran across his torso. It wasn’t _unsightly_ , of course. In fact, he was considered one of the most attractive athletes even _with it_ , but that didn’t change Oikawa’s bad feelings about it.

      Oikawa had clawed his way out of the forest, even with wolves trying to drag him back down. Maybe they were wild dogs, maybe they were wolves. Oikawa didn’t know. All he knew is that they were his enemies. He’d fought tooth and nail, but at the end of the day, he’d only been what, nine? Ten? There was only so much he could do on his own. So, when he’d finally made it to the entrance of the forest, he’d passed out.

      When he’d woken up, it was in hospital. And, the doctors were telling him that he’d sustained damage to his knee. He’d never be able to play competitive volleyball again. Oikawa hadn’t cried though. He’d simply looked the doctor in the eyes and told him to do whatever he could to ensure that he would be able to make it back on the court in the quickest time possible. So, they’d eventually outlined a surgery that would give Oikawa a chance at becoming a volleyball player again. It was expensive, but his family knew how much volleyball meant to Oikawa. So, they dug into their savings. Cut corners. Made sacrifices. And, after many months of saving and donations from well-meaning classmates and friends, they had enough money to pay for Oikawa’s surgery. From there, life got just a little bit harder for Oikawa. He’d undergone the knee surgery, bitten his tongue when things began to hurt just a little bit too much, done his physiotherapy as required and he took his well-needed break from volleyball. By the time he was thirteen, just three years after the surgery, he was on his way to winning the _Best Setter_ award. It hurt to be pushing himself so hard, but he knew that he couldn’t become a winner unless he pushed himself to the limit. He wasn’t blessed with natural talent, like some of the other setters he knew. Therefore, he had to work even _harder_ in order to compensate for what he lacked.

      Now, Oikawa was considered one of the best setters in the country. He had a fanbase. He was part of a nationally-acclaimed volleyball team, not to mention, they were the only team in Japan who stood a fair chance at beating the very-much overpowered Shiratorizawa. But, that position hadn’t come without pain. Without effort. Without _strife_. Oikawa had been throwing that away, throwing it all away for some stupid alcohol and bad habits. It took him losing Iwaizumi to realise just what he was doing. _He wouldn’t give up volleyball for anything. But, there’s no way that he’s going to give up Iwaizumi either_.

      The other thing about that incident is that Oikawa’s fears had only increased ever since. Spiders. Wolves. Dogs. Puppies. Anything that had a tail, really. Strangely enough, Oikawa wasn’t scared of aliens. He believed that aliens had come by while he was unconscious and taken him to hospital, so he was indebted to them. But, all these things which Oikawa remembered from that night, things which _resembled_ what had scared Oikawa that night… they were monsters. And, he was scared that they would return for him.

      “Come here,” Iwaizumi finally said, taking the brunette into his arms. Oikawa allowed his tears to break free at last, in the ugliest fashion possible. The tears were pouring onto Iwaizumi’s white shirt, the one which smelt like lavender fabric softener and fresh mint. The editor’s hands were holding Oikawa tight, a subtle message that he wasn’t planning to let him go. Oikawa was blubbering the same words — “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” — again and again. Each time, Iwaizumi responded, “We’ll make it work”.

      And when the two finally pulled out of the hug, Oikawa’s nose dripping with snot and slightly merged with his tears, Iwaizumi shook his head and offered the brunette a handkerchief. Oikawa wiped his tears and nose, blowing into the handkerchief loudly before handing it back to Iwaizumi.

      “You can’t give me a dirty handkerchief,” the editor scolded. When he got no response, he took the handkerchief anyway and set it onto the table. Then, he looked back over at Oikawa, who was still snuffling to himself. “Did you drive here?”

      “I ran.”

      Iwaizumi’s eyes widened. “Eh? It would take at _least_ an hour to run here…”

      “I was desperate.”

      The editor sighed. “Well, then. Let’s go home. My car’s in the parking lot.”

      “Home?” A genuine grin appeared on Oikawa’s face, one which was spreading to his cheeks, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle and his hands to reach up for Iwaizumi’s face as if it were a natural everyday movement. Although, in Oikawa’s case, it was. “You’re coming?”

      “Yes, I am.”

      It was then that their lips finally collided. Oikawa’s cold lips against Iwaizumi’s warm ones, chestnut locks brushing against Iwaizumi’s forehead as Oikawa tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Iwaizumi could feel that now-familiar unfurling in his chest, almost as if his heart was blossoming like a rose bathing in the sun, blossoming at Oikawa’s touch. And the brunette was still smiling against Iwaizumi’s lips.

      _God, I love him_.

      The moon shifted ever-so-slightly in the sky, bathing the two of them in light as they continued to kiss one another, Oikawa’s hands buried in Iwaizumi’s hair. Under normal circumstances, Iwaizumi might’ve complained about how cold Oikawa’s hands felt, but he didn’t care right now. It had been way too long since the last time they’d kissed. _Clearly, my dick feels the same_. Iwaizumi’s hands sloped over Oikawa’s waist, slipping under the alien hoodie that the brunette was wearing. The brunette groaned when Iwaizumi’s hips bucked against his.

      “Hey, Oikawa,” the editor said at last, having torn away from his lips to catch his breath. “You don’t mind if I fuck you here, right?”

      Oikawa couldn’t help but laugh to himself. “That’s awfully polite for you, Iwa-chan.”

      The editor rolled his eyes. “Shut up. Can I fuck you?”

      “Can I make you breakfast?” the brunette sang in response.

      “Fine.” Iwaizumi’s facial expression was one of fear (honestly, what if Oikawa gives him salmonella in the morning?) but Iwaizumi’s fear was quickly forgotten when the brunette went in for another kiss. Oikawa’s lips melted into Iwaizumi’s, the brunette constantly adding and lessening the pressure. Iwaizumi had grown to love the way that Oikawa kissed; the way he’d leave him wanting _more_.

      They slowly began to take off each other’s clothes, Iwaizumi constantly looking up at Oikawa to make sure that it was okay. Truth was, the editor was just a little scared that things would start to go bad if they just went back to having sex all of the time. But, it felt different this time. It felt _thrilling_. Maybe it was the excitement that he got from the prospect of taking Oikawa on his desk, but maybe it was something else.

      “Wait,” Iwaizumi said at last, stopping the brunette’s hands on his waist. “I haven’t got any lube. Or condoms. Or anything.”

      “I come prepared.” Oikawa bent down and retrieved a small tube of lube along with two foil packets from the pockets in his hoodie. “I kind of had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to resist me…” The brunette’s eyes lowered down to the tent in Iwaizumi’s boxers.

      “Shut up, Kusokawa.”

      Oikawa smiled and set the packets down on Iwaizumi’s desk, wiggling his bare backside for the editor as he walked about. “Come and get me if you can, Iwa-chan.”

      “Don’t walk into the cameras, idiot. I don’t fancy losing my job for fucking my boyfriend on my desk,” Iwaizumi said, grabbing the brunette by the waist and pulling him back, eliciting a loud yelp from him. When the brunette’s backside pressed right up against the tent in Iwaizumi’s boxers, he couldn’t help but let out a groan. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath. It hadn’t even been that long since Oikawa and Iwaizumi had last seen each other, but it had felt like _forever_. At least, that’s what their bodies were telling them.

      “Hmm… should I tease you, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa began to wiggle his backside against his boyfriend’s erection, laughing to himself when he felt just _how_ much Iwaizumi was reacting because of him.

      “Playtime’s over,” Iwaizumi said at last, grabbing the brunette’s hips and pushing him right against the desk. “Bend over.” _Oh, yes_. Oikawa _loved_ it when Iwaizumi got into his bossy mode. The editor would probably never come to realise just how much Oikawa enjoyed it, but he _did_. He really did. Teasingly, Oikawa began to wiggle his backside in Iwaizumi’s direction, although his movements halted when Iwaizumi’s hand came down, a loud _slap_ resounding in the quiet office only to be followed by a loud moan moments later.

      “Iwa-chan!”

      He did it again, and then again, Oikawa’s moans only becoming breathier as he continued. Oikawa wasn’t sure when Iwaizumi had reached over and grabbed the bottle of lube, but when he felt the cool liquid probing around _there_ , he exhaled through his lips, spreading his legs just a little bit more.

      “You’re still more eager than anything,” Iwaizumi murmured to himself. Oikawa could hear the smirk in the editor’s voice. _Oh shut up, Iwa-chan. I’m just horny. And in love. But whatever_.

      “Don’t make fun of me, _Iwa-chan_ ,” Oikawa playfully pleaded, dragging out the –chan the longer the editor persisted in teasing him. Oikawa could feel Iwaizumi’s fingers at his entrance, sliding up and down, going in but not _quite_ , just… teasing him. “You’re such a tease, I swe— _ah_!” Oikawa was spanked yet again, although Iwaizumi’s hand was slightly damp with all the lube he’d used. _Jesus Christ, just how much lube did he put on his hand?_ Oikawa might’ve quizzed Iwaizumi for the answer, but Iwaizumi just _wasn’t giving him a chance_. Oikawa could feel Iwaizumi pressing against him — sure, maybe he still had his boxers on, but that didn’t hide the fact that he was harder than anything — and his breath was hot on Oikawa’s neck. His hands were sliding up Oikawa’s sides, quietly appreciating how artistic the brunette’s body looked, splayed out on his desk in such a manner.

      “I’m going to make you beg for this,” Iwaizumi murmured in a low tone, both hands beginning to move in circling motions as they moved towards the brunette’s chest. Hell, Iwaizumi hadn’t really _touched_ any of his erogenous areas yet and he was still panting as if he had. It felt good, felt good to be cherished like this. To feel Iwaizumi’s breath hot against his neck. Causing the hairs to rise slightly, feeling Iwaizumi’s arousal pressing into his backside, his _own_ arousal pressing into Iwaizumi’s desk… if Oikawa wasn’t so turned on, he might’ve felt a little awkward in such a position. But right now, all he could focus on was that Iwaizumi was touching him. _Him_. Not that attractive co-worker of his, Sugawara. _Him_. It’s Iwaizumi whispering encouragement into his ears, Iwaizumi spanking him whenever he gets a little too eager, _Iwaizumi_. It’s him.

      “Please, Iwa-chan… I’m going to burst,” Oikawa groaned, trying to generate friction between himself and the desk so that he could get some sort of release. But Iwaizumi had him pinned to the desk, was sucking on his neck and breathing hard as he began to blow hot air along Oikawa’s broad back, roughly kissing Oikawa’s shoulders and slicking his hands down Oikawa’s sides once again. “Didn’t you say you were going to fuck me, anyway? This isn’t fucking. This is child’s play,” the brunette childishly insisted. “I want you to _ruin_ me, damnit. Come on, Iwa-chan. Ruin me.”

      “Oh, I’ll ruin you.” All of a sudden, Iwaizumi wasn’t kissing on Oikawa’s shoulders anymore. His lips had been replaced by his hands, and he was now staring up at the ceiling. _What? Iwa-chan flipped me over?_

      “Is this the part where you— _ah_! Shit,” Oikawa hissed, biting down on his lip when Iwaizumi’s lips latched onto the nub standing erect from his chest. _Finally_ , he was getting some stimulation. Oikawa’s arms were beginning to come off the desk slightly. He’d knocked all of Iwaizumi’s sheets to the ground. Some of them were still under him. Neither of them cared. The moonlight was illuminating Oikawa’s sweaty body, the same body Iwaizumi’s eyes couldn’t stop roaming. The brunette’s abs were glistening slightly, smudged with lube and sweat and maybe even saliva since Iwaizumi’s kissing there now, appreciating this man in front of him and touching and now he’s gotten to Oikawa’s arousal at last and he’s kissing the tip—

      “ _Fuck me_ ,” Oikawa practically growled, the intensity of his tone even managing to take Iwaizumi aback slightly. But, part of him still wanted Oikawa to beg some more, to make the brunette realise just how much they need each other. But Iwaizumi was finding it hard to resist the urge to do it, to take Oikawa right here, right now. To thrust into him, to elicit those moans of pleasure from him and to hear him moan that same breathy name over and over as he reaches his climax, and oh—

      “Patience,” Iwaizumi chided at last, but Oikawa was already beginning to take action. He sat up on the desk, pushing Iwaizumi off him, and jumped off the desk before getting down onto his knees. He pulled Iwaizumi’s boxers down as he went, latching his lips onto what he saw almost instantly. Oikawa’s hands were on either side of his hip, gripping firmly. Iwaizumi let out a loud groan, although there was some surprise mixed in there. _Oh, no. I’m going to come if he doesn’t stop that_. He’d been about to tell Oikawa to stop, but looking down at the brunette, he knew that _stop_ wasn’t exactly an option. Oikawa was really going at it. _This is payback for me teasing him, isn’t it?_ Oikawa wasn’t holding back. He’d forced his own head down as far as he could, was breathing hard through his nose as he looked up at Iwaizumi. _He’s so stubborn_ , Iwaizumi thought, although he couldn’t help the smile on his face. He knew that he needed to continue teasing Oikawa, but with Oikawa giving him a look so innocent that Iwaizumi might’ve believed it was genuine, along with those pink lips and the warmth of the brunette’s mouth… not to mention, he was running his hands through Oikawa’s hair while groaning… _Come on, Hajime. Control yourself_.

      “Do I need to bind your hands with my belt, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi had _finally_ grabbed Oikawa’s shoulders and urged him off with a concentrated effort, and now the brunette was simply smirking in response.

      “My love for you will set them free.”

      Iwaizumi flushed. Oikawa took that as his cue to resume what he was doing before Iwa-chan had _so rudely pulled him off_ , but Iwaizumi grabbed both of Oikawa’s hands and gave him the most dominant look he could muster.

      “On the desk, Oikawa.”

      “You’re so _mean_ , Iwa-chan.” Oikawa pouted, but he stood up and plopped himself down on the desk as ordered. “Does this mean you’re going to fuck me now?” Iwaizumi didn’t respond, but he retrieved the condom at last, tearing the foil packet open before rolling it onto his length in one swift move. Oikawa had decided to turn onto his front, realising that it was more comfortable than lying on his back. _Seriously, Iwa-chan needs to invest in a bigger desk if he plans to make this a habit. My legs are just dangling off the desk. What am I, a voodoo doll? Actually, no. That’s bad luck_.

      “Iwa- _chan_ ,” Oikawa complained, “hurry up. I’m horny.”

      “You don’t know how to be patient.”

      “Because _I’m horny_ ,” Oikawa squawked. “Please, Iwa-chan. I need—”

      “I know what you need, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi lightly brought his hand against Oikawa’s backside, causing the brunette to let out a gasp as he threw his head up. Spanking Oikawa was the highlight of sex for Iwaizumi, if he was honest. It was satisfying to watch Oikawa squirm beneath him in pleasure, satisfying to watch the skin redden the more he did it. It made Iwaizumi feel like he was in control. And when it came to conquering Oikawa... Iwaizumi needed as much control as he could get.

      “B…But—” Iwaizumi spanked Oikawa a lot harder this time around, causing the brunette to groan in pleasure as he threw his head down onto the desk. And sure, he probably should’ve been hurt by that, but all he could feel right now was this _desire_. At this point, Oikawa’s slightly tan skin was damp with sweat, and Iwaizumi could hear Oikawa’s heavy breathing.

      _It’s time_.

      “I just decide when you get it.”

      Without warning, Iwaizumi slid himself into the brunette. The two of them simultaneously let out a groan, Oikawa’s fingers practically _digging_ into the mahogany desk as Iwaizumi began to rock in and out of him, his hands constantly bringing Oikawa’s hips against his. He began to build it up more and more, various grunts and groans heard until it truly became fucking in every sense of the word, garbled cries of pleasure and cadenced strokes against the brunette’s waist, keeping them close the entire time.

      “Ha… _Hajime_ ,” Oikawa groaned, trying his best to keep up with Iwaizumi’s thrusts. He could feel himself drawing close to that ecstasy, that ecstasy which Iwaizumi had rewarded him with so many times. This, Oikawa decided, was something that he couldn’t live without.

      Then again, he couldn’t live without Iwaizumi in general.

      “Again,” Iwaizumi murmured, although his breathing was becoming ragged with all of this _movement_. Oikawa was so tight, he sounded so _heavenly_ beneath Iwaizumi, and not to mention, that name…

      “Hajime,” Oikawa whimpered.

      “Again,” Iwaizumi growled, his thrusts becoming animalistic as he felt himself beginning to draw close to this ecstasy. For some moments, he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Sugawara forgot something on his desk and happened to walk in on them (honestly, Suga forgot something at the office nearly every night) but when he heard Oikawa groaning his name, _Hajime_ , the thought quickly disappeared from Iwaizumi’s head.

      “I’m yours,” Oikawa gasped, still grasping onto the desk with all of his might.

      “That’s right,” Iwaizumi responded, pulling out of Oikawa momentarily. The brunette let out a whimper of protest, only for Iwaizumi to flip him over so that he was lying down on his back. “You’re mine.” And then, Iwaizumi began to thrust into him once again. He’d grabbed Oikawa’s legs, hoisted them up so that they were at his shoulders and now he was slamming into Oikawa without abandon. Oikawa felt as if he were folded up like an ironing board and this desk was uncomfortable as _hell_ , but Iwaizumi was looking at him with _those_ eyes and fucking him with every last ounce of strength in his body. Oikawa would take this. Hell, he wouldn’t take any _less_ than this. It felt good, so good.

      “Hajime… don’t stop,” Oikawa groaned, eyes beginning to shut as Iwaizumi’s thrusting became more and more brutal. It was certain now, Oikawa’s insides would be rearranged by the time that Iwaizumi was done with him.

      “Open your eyes,” Iwaizumi growled, thrusting sharply into Oikawa. Predictably enough, the brunette’s eyes sprung open, and he _kept_ them open, watching as Iwaizumi’s eyes became cloudy with desire, his hair a complete mess and his face damp with sweat. _He’s so hot_. And Oikawa opened his mouth to tell him that, but instead, it was to tell Iwaizumi that he _couldn’t hold on_.

      “Hajime!” Oikawa was convulsing against Iwaizumi, the contractions so _exquisite_ and raw that it was taking Iwaizumi everything he had to keep on _going_. Keeping Oikawa’s right leg in place with his elbow, Iwaizumi reached for Oikawa’s cock, taking a firm grip and beginning to stroke. The sound that came out of Oikawa’s mouth told Iwaizumi what he needed to know: Oikawa was done. The ensuing wail of his name, “Hajime!” only further served to prove that point. Oikawa was thrusting up into Iwaizumi’s touch, jerking and twitching as he yelled out his release. He came hot against Iwaizumi’s hand, his chest, some even ending up in his hair. Through the frenzy, Iwaizumi yelled out his release too, thrusting hard into Oikawa as he came, came hard and fast, rolling his hips as his breath came out in short, stunted gasps. The two of them were a panting, thrusting mess, although they were finally beginning to slow down in the wake of their orgasms.

      Iwaizumi let Oikawa’s legs go at last, allowing them to dangle off the edge of the desk once again. Next, he released his grip on Oikawa’s cock. Then, he pulled out, the both of them letting out a sigh as he did so. He rolled his condom off and tossed it over to the nearest bin. It slid into one of the numerous Styrofoam coffee cups in the bin, which was lucky for Iwaizumi. It would’ve been hard to explain to his boss why there was a used ‘Bubblegum Blast!’ condom by his desk come morning, after all. Oikawa remained slumped on top of Iwaizumi’s desk, not entirely sure if he’d be able to move. He’d forgotten how good it felt for his lungs to burn with all the moaning and heavy breathing he did; he’d forgotten how good it felt to be taken so viciously like this; he’d forgotten how good it felt to have his Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi.

      “Hey, don’t fall asleep here. As ravishing as you look, I don’t fancy the idea of my co-workers seeing you in the morning.” Oikawa sat up and turned to face Iwaizumi, although his eyes were now droopy with fatigue. The editor was holding out some wipes that he’d recovered from the top drawer of his desk and of course, Oikawa’s discarded clothing. “We’ll sleep at home.”

      “Ugh… Hajime, I feel like I’ll fall asleep if I stand up,” Oikawa mumbled, batting the clothing out of Iwaizumi’s hands. He _really_ couldn’t be bothered to get dressed right now. He’d rather Iwaizumi just carried him out of the building honeymoon-style, completely naked. It wasn’t like the media hadn’t seen him naked, after all. If anything, it would only increase Oikawa’s popularity if he did such a thing. (Then again, Iwa-chan would probably lose his job.)

      Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at Oikawa. “First of all, who gave you permission to call me Hajime?” Iwaizumi couldn’t help himself from smiling. He was exhausted too, but Oikawa gave him strength.

      “You’re the one who said _again_ ,” Oikawa muttered.

      “I take it back. Don’t call me Hajime.”

      “Hajime-chan?”

      The both of them cringed simultaneously at the nickname, Oikawa quickly shaking his head in response to his own question. “Never mind,” Oikawa rushed to say. “You’re still my Iwa-chan. Now… help me up, please.”

      “Alright. Up we go,” Iwaizumi said, grabbing Oikawa by the arms and hoisting him off the desk. However, when Oikawa almost fell to his knees, _really_ unable to support himself, Iwaizumi had to rush and support him by the armpits in order to hold him up. Oikawa had reached out for Iwaizumi’s shoulders to stop himself from falling, although he’d grabbed a little harder than intended.

      “My legs are really sore,” Oikawa said as explanation. “Sorry.”

      Iwaizumi simply laughed and kissed Oikawa on the forehead. “If you can’t stand, it means that it’s been too long since I last fucked you like that.”

      Oikawa smiled and leaned against the desk, hands still gripping Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “Can we kind of just sit here and talk until I can move again? I really can’t move… it’s kind of embarrassing, actually…” Oikawa’s face had gone bright red, which only made it even more hilarious to Iwaizumi. “Stop _laughing_ , Iwa-chan. You’re so mean, honestly…”

      “So, you’re telling me that you can walk after your brutal volleyball camps and practice, but not after this.” Iwaizumi had seen what Oikawa’s practices entailed. Hundreds of serves, lots of receiving, diving drills… it hurt Iwaizumi’s limbs just to _look_ at it, never mind carrying it out. Not to mention, Oikawa did _extra_ on top of what he already did. If it wasn’t doing extra serves after practice, then it was tiring himself out in their home gym or studying videos of his opponents for hours on end.

      Oikawa snorted, lifting himself on top of the mahogany desk once again. Now that he was no longer in that orgasmic haze, he could feel just how damp it was with his sweat. _Oh, and Iwa-chan’s manuscripts. Oops_. “Well, it’s not every day I get bent like an ironing board and fucked on a mahogany desk, Iwa-chan. That’s different from serving and spiking. Come on, you played volleyball in high school, you should know.”

      “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever been fucked on a mahogany desk, so I can’t really compare the two.”

      “Let’s change that.” Oikawa smirked at the very _thought_ of getting to reverse their roles. _Oh, that would be so fun_. “Not now, though. I need to regain the feeling in my legs first—”

      “Oh, no. I’m not bottoming. Not now and not ever.”

      “Aw, come on. I’ll make it fun for you,” Oikawa teased. “I won’t be like you. Always being mean. Teasing me.” He wiggled his toes at Iwaizumi, waving his legs back and forth as he waited for them to stop aching. “Oh, and I won’t break your legs either. You know, I think you broke mine. So mean, Iwa-chan…”

      “You _are_ alright, aren’t you?” Iwaizumi approached, looking carefully at Oikawa’s knee. Now that he thought about it, bending Oikawa’s legs like that might’ve been a little _too_ reckless. He didn’t want to hurt Oikawa. “Sorry. Your knee…”

      “It’s fine, Iwa-chan! I think you need to worry more about your coming face,” Oikawa teased. “It’s very unsightly—”

      “Do you want me to break your legs for real?”

      “Ah-ah, Iwa-chan. My net worth’s what it is because of these legs.” Oikawa wiggled his legs once more, bopping Iwaizumi’s nose with his foot. “Feel how soft my feet are.” He began to clobber Iwaizumi’s face with his feet, laughing when Iwaizumi kept trying to escape his feet. The editor eventually _did_ escape, a dark glare on his face as he looked at the laughing brunette on his desk.

      “Alright, you know what? Get up. We’re going home.”

      “Can’t move,” Oikawa sang. “You’ll have to carry me to the car, Iwa-chan. Oh, but should you really leave your desk in such a state?”

      “Ugh,” Iwaizumi muttered, having completely forgotten about his desk. “Well, you know what, it doesn’t matter. I was going to reject those manuscripts anyway.” He threw Oikawa’s clothes at him, barking an order for him to put them on. Oikawa was happy to oblige, cleaning himself off with the provided wipes and _finally_ getting back up onto his feet. While Oikawa busied himself with getting dressed, Iwaizumi cleaned up his desk as well as he could. There wasn’t much that could be done for the manuscripts that had been unable to escape Oikawa, but Iwaizumi would just hope for the best.

      Once the two were ready at last, Oikawa clamped his arms around his boyfriend once again, who promptly hoisted him up so that Oikawa was in his arms rather than on his feet. Even if Oikawa’s legs were feeling better, Iwaizumi would still carry him. After all, he deserved it after Iwaizumi had left him for so long.

      “I love you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa mumbled against Iwaizumi’s shoulder, _already_ beginning to doze off. “Love you. A lot.” The two walked out, a soft smile on Oikawa’s face while Iwaizumi had a proud expression on his face. This idiot in his arms was his. He was loud, obnoxious and irritated the living hell out of Iwaizumi.

      Unfortunately, Iwaizumi couldn’t live without him.

      And clearly, it was the same on Oikawa’s part. For the foreseeable future, they were stuck with one another. Iwaizumi didn’t mind too much. Oikawa was warm, his hair was soft against Iwaizumi’s chin, and he was _lovely_ when he was asleep. Mostly due to the fact that he couldn’t irritate Iwaizumi.

      “I love you too, idiot.”


	27. Thorn in my Side

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Thorn in my Side**

      Kageyama walked out of the gym at midnight, slightly shocked that Oikawa hadn’t turned up today. Usually, the brunette was _always_ there to act like that one devil which constantly hovered over his shoulder. Inserting doubts into his head about his talents; his life; his everything. He’d learnt that it was usually best to tune him out, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to practice. Not to mention, he was still a bit worried about the idea of joining Seijoh. Sure, he’d admired them. But… did he want to join them?

      He drove home with all these thoughts spinning about in his head — Oikawa, volleyball, Seijoh… and of course, Tsukishima. He’d seen the text that the blonde had left. It wasn’t that he didn’t _like_ Tsukishima saying that stuff. He’d known Tsukishima for a long time; he was used to hearing it. It just… it reminded Kageyama that he’d have to be ready for sex sooner or later. He wasn’t ready; he _couldn’t_ be.

      It didn’t surprise Kageyama to see that Tsukishima’s car was in the driveway. The cleaner sometimes found himself wondering how Tsukishima managed to keep his job at the library when the blonde spent more time than was healthy chasing after him.

      When Kageyama walked into the house and into the living room, he saw that Tsukishima was sitting there. There were two champagne flutes and a bottle of sake in front of him, the premium kind that he always managed to get his hands on.

      “Your parents said that they didn’t mind me waiting for you,” Tsukishima said, looking up at Kageyama’s arrival. Kageyama nodded. He sat down next to Tsukishima, who proceeded to pour out the sake into the flutes. He handed one to Kageyama, who took it and began to slurp it down. Tsukishima cringed slightly at the cleaner’s manners, but he didn’t openly refute them either.

      “Did I make you angry at me again?”

      Kageyama shook his head while setting his flute down onto the table.

      “Did I embarrass you?”

      The cleaner didn’t respond.

      “Do you want me to leave you alone?” Tsukishima put a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder. He seemed tense; nervous. Tsukishima felt a slight tinge of guilt at seeing this — if he’d just kept his mouth shut, Kageyama wouldn’t be acting all _quiet_ like he was right now. Then again, Tsukishima wasn’t the best when it came to resisting the urge to make comments.

      “No,” Kageyama finally said. “I just… I’m not ready for that. This.”

      Tsukishima’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re not saying…” Yamaguchi’s devious look was flickering in the blonde’s head, again and again. _What if Yamaguchi’s putting ideas into his head?_

      “No. I… I like you.” The cleaner wasn’t blushing, at least for once. The tips of his ears were hidden by his mop of dark hair. “But I don’t like the idea of sex. I know… I know you like that kind of stuff. But I can’t give it to you. I’m sorry.” Kageyama’s head was lowered, whether in disappointment or shame Tsukishima wasn’t sure, but he _hated_ it. He didn’t want Kageyama to look so down because of one tactless comment he’d made.

      “There’s more to relationships than sex, you know.” Tsukishima squeezed Kageyama’s shoulder, allowed it to slide down to his hand. Kageyama’s hand was cold, stiff. But Tsukishima’s hand was beginning to warm it up; make it loosen up and curl to reciprocate the blonde’s actions. With a smirk, the blonde added, “I’ll have you know that your kisses are more than enough for me.”

      “Are you sure?” Kageyama had turned to face Tsukishima at last. The cleaner had avoided direct eye contact at first, but now his blue eyes, bright and wide, were piercing into Tsukishima’s golden ones, searching to make sure that the blonde wasn’t lying to him.

      “Hundred-percent.” Tsukishima leaned into Kageyama’s lips, gently sucking on the cleaner’s lower lip. Kageyama’s lips parted open in response, allowing Tsukishima to slip his tongue through. As the kiss went on, Tsukishima’s other hand slid up to Kageyama’s now-warm cheek, which was flush against the blonde’s hand. There were little wet sounds and slight murmurs of approval from Kageyama which kept urging the blonde on. Kageyama’s hand mirrored Tsukishima’s; it was clasping the blonde’s cheek close, tracing a line along his softened jawline while feeling the slight stubble on his jaw. He hadn’t shaved recently. The thought made Kageyama smile into the kiss, which in turn made Tsukishima smile. The both of them ended up smiling so hard they had to pull away, by which point they were both laughing and holding each other, content in the knowledge that they had one another.

      Nobody could get between them.

***

      That night, the two of them fell asleep on the couch together, leaving three-quarters of the bottle of sake full. They’d only had the one glass each and nothing else. Once morning came upon the two of them, Tsukishima knew that Kageyama would need to get ready for work. It was eight-thirty, after all. But Kageyama looked so _cute_ while he was asleep.

      “I see you’re awake.” Kageyama’s mother was stood at the entrance, watching with an appreciative look on her face as she stepped into the room, floaty wisps of hair shifting back and forth as she moved. “He’s been smiling a lot more recently.”

      “Yeah.” Tsukishima nodded once, bowed his head slightly to be respectful. “I’m sorry for falling asleep here.”

      “No, no. It’s okay.” Akane shook her head, grinning widely at the blonde. “Stay as long as you need to. Would you like breakfast, Tsukishima-kun?”

      “Sure. I’ll wake Kageyama up.”

      “No, no.” Akane shook her head. “You have to let him wake up naturally. He gets nervous otherwise.” _Oh, right. How could Tsukishima forget?_

      “Alright. In that case, I’ll come for breakfast.” The two of them walked over to the kitchen in relative silence. Tsukishima sat down politely and watched as Akane began to move around the kitchen, cracking eggs and boiling some rice on the hob. The eggs only took two, three minutes but the rice would most likely take about fifteen until it was done. Keeping that in mind, Akane began to speak.

      “Tobi-kun’s not very good with his feelings,” she began to say. “He’s not the type to want to talk to therapists about how he’s feeling. I’ve asked him about seeing doctors and stuff, but he’s adamant about not going.” It wasn’t much of a secret that Kageyama was usually a very nervous person. It also wasn’t much of a secret that Kageyama was terrified of doctors. (He found their needles and medical instruments scarier than anything. Even clowns.)

      “Yeah. He’s always been pretty stubborn.”

      “So, if something’s bothering him, chances are that he won’t mention it. He once had a nail stuck in his foot, but he didn’t tell anyone. He was just limping around the house while saying that he stubbed his toe on a table. But then I caught him trying to pry the nail out with a pair of tweezers just two hours later…” Akane shook her head, smiling at the memory. “I had to take him to a doctor to get his foot properly looked at.”

      Tsukishima couldn’t help but chuckle. It sounded exactly like something the man would do. It could get frustrating when Kageyama wasn’t straightforward about _everything_ , but Tsukishima was willing to wait it out.

      “The point is, you’ll need to keep reminding him that you’re there for him. He usually feels like he’s ‘inconveniencing’ people by talking about his problems,” Akane explained. “You probably know a lot of this already, but…”

      “No, no. I want to know as much as possible.”

      Akane appeared pleased by the blonde’s eagerness. “Well, there’s one last thing I should mention. He… he doesn’t like to talk about it, but as a teenager, he was diagnosed with social anxiety by a professional doctor. His father and I were worried about him, so we took him to see a doctor. We had to go back for multiple appointments, but the doctor eventually reached the conclusion that he had social anxiety.”

      Tsukishima was speechless for a moment. Kageyama had never mentioned anything like that to him, not once. Sure, he knew that Kageyama didn’t like to be around people. He knew that Kageyama got panicked in social situations. But he hadn’t actually realised that it could be something so… _big_.

      “He likes to pretend that it doesn’t exist,” Akane continued to say. “No matter how much his father and I talk to him, he just won’t acknowledge it. So… while I know Tobi-kun might have his days, please be there for him. Even if he doesn’t say it, he appreciates your company a lot.”

      “Y…Yeah.” Tsukishima nodded. “Of course.”

      There was a loud yawn and heavy footsteps. “Mom, should you be up?” Kageyama was standing there, hair slightly mussed up and a faint path of drool that had dried along his cheek. His eyes then caught that flicker of blonde hair. He flushed once he realised that Tsukishima was there, staring at him with those inquisitive eyes of his. “Tsukishima? I thought you went home…”

      “Akane invited me for breakfast.”

      “You have work at nine. It’ll take you ages to drive to the library from here,” Kageyama scolded. “You’re going to lose your job, you know. How many times have you been late?”

      “They won’t fire me. I’m Tsukishima Kei.”

      The cleaner rolled his eyes, but he didn’t protest any further. He slid down into the seat opposite to Tsukishima, smiling when his mother set down a plate of fried eggs in front of him. Moments later, some freshly boiled rice was set down next to him, along with some chopsticks. The action was being mirrored on Tsukishima’s end. It wasn’t long before the two men were digging in, engaging in light conversation with Akane about the weather, of all things. Tsukishima still had Akane’s words on his mind though, so he wasn’t fully focused. Kageyama still had the events of last night embedded in his mind, so he wasn’t really focused either. The list of things for them to worry about just kept piling higher, higher and _higher_.


	28. It's Breakfast Time

Chapter Twenty-Eight: It’s Breakfast Time

      “Iwa-chan, I made breakfast!”

      Iwaizumi opened his eyes when he smelt the scent of freshly cooked eggs, rubbing his eyes so that there wouldn’t be any of that sleepy dust holding them together. His boyfriend was there in an oversized t-shirt (Iwaizumi was pretty sure it was one of his shirts) and a pair of snug black briefs, placing a tray of food on Iwaizumi’s lap. Iwaizumi had to admit — the breakfast actually looked good, _really_ good. But…

      “Oikawa, since when have I ever drunk sake? And _who drinks sake with their breakfast_?”

      A sheepish grin appeared on Oikawa’s face. Kuroo had _finally_ given Oikawa the key back to his liquor cabinet, so Oikawa had thought that it would be a good idea to ‘share the magic’ with his boyfriend.

      “It doesn’t hurt to try it.”

      Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Idiot.” He took a sip of the beverage, only to splutter all over himself. Oikawa almost thought he was _choking_ , but he quickly realised that Iwaizumi was only overreacting.

      “It’s not that bad, Iwa-chan. You’re just a lightweight,” Oikawa teased.

      “Don’t make me get up,” Iwaizumi muttered, giving the cup of sake back to Oikawa. “You can drink this. It tastes foul.”

      “No.” Oikawa took the beverage, but he shook his head. “I’m not drinking anymore.”

      “Eh? Why?” To say Iwaizumi was surprised was an understatement. Oikawa had been a borderline alcoholic. The only thing that had stopped him from becoming a full-time alcoholic was his _job_. He was able to stay away from the liquor when he was in season, but off-season…

      “It’s not good for me. It’s not good for us.” Oikawa set the beverage down on the bedside table and walked around the bed so that he was now sitting on his side of the bed, lying next to Iwaizumi. “We said we were going to try harder this time, right? If I stay the same, then I’m not trying.”

      Iwaizumi smiled now, a genuine smile which tugged at the corners of his lips and brightened his entire face. This was all the confirmation he needed that Oikawa was going to give this relationship his all. “In that case, I’m willing to compromise too. I’ll… I’ll let you top.” It hurt his pride _just a little_ to say that, but when he saw how the brunette’s face went alight with pure joy, all he could feel was happiness.

      “Heh. You’re a softie really,” Oikawa teased, poking his boyfriend’s cheek. “Such a _softie_.”

      “Shut up,” Iwaizumi said gruffly. “You’re still an idiot. A stupid one.”

      “I know you are, Iwa-chan.”

      Iwaizumi’s facial expression soured. “You’re really going to get on my nerves now?”

      “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to irritation!” Oikawa leaned in and kissed Iwaizumi on the cheek. “Do you need to go to work today?”

      Iwaizumi shrugged. “Yeah. You saw my desk. I’ve got a lot to do.”

      “Am I on that To-Do list by any chance?” Oikawa stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend, placed both his hands underneath his chin to draw attention to that perfectly sculpted jaw of his.

      Iwaizumi sighed. “How can you be so horny all of the time?”

      “Because I love you.”

      This time, Iwaizumi chuckled. “That’s an excuse?”

      “Yes.” Oikawa folded his arms stubbornly. “It is.”

      “In that case, take me out for dinner first.” Iwaizumi had entirely forgotten about the breakfast on his lap. His attention was solely on the brunette sitting next to him, the same one who was looking at him with those big puppy eyes of his. “I’ll have to work overtime today, so I should be done at eleven… maybe ten if I work _really_ hard…”

      “So, you want me to come to your workplace again. Sure thing, Iwa-chan!”

      “You’re misunderstanding me—”

      “Nope. I can read you like a _book_.” Oikawa clapped his hands to mimic the sound of a book closing. “This is my chapter, Iwa-chan.”

      Iwaizumi rolled his eyes in annoyance. “I’ll punch you.”

      “I’ll love you.”

      “Stop combatting violence with love!”

      “You know you love it, Iwa-chan. Now come on, eat your breakfast.”

      “Fine. I will.” Iwaizumi grabbed the tray and stood up while holding it. Then, he placed it down on the ground and went back towards the bed, his gaze intent on the brunette who was sitting there with his legs folded.

      “Oh, so now I’m breakfast?”

      “No,” Iwaizumi responded, grabbing the brunette by the waist and tugging him close. “You’re my main course. _And_ dessert.” The two of them kissed, their lips overlapping one another while their hands explored each other’s bodies. The two would tear away from one another to murmur phrases every now and again, Oikawa saying something overly mushy and Iwaizumi getting embarrassed about it, but they didn’t stop kissing for any longer than a minute at most. Their affection was vying for one another, thighs pressing against thighs; tongues colliding against tongues; moans being contained by slow kisses and little brushes of the hand.

      “Hajime,” Oikawa would gasp, that throaty moan like a chemical pulse against the side of his sinewy neck. “You’re—you’re amazing…”

      Iwaizumi would respond in kind, the two a tangle of bodies and throaty moans on top of this bed; this same bed which Oikawa had cried on; this bed which Iwaizumi himself had cried on when he thought he was alone; this same bed where the two had confessed their love for one another before allowing their bodies to respond in kind. This bed was their history and their future, all in one.

      “I love you,” the brunette moaned when he reached that moment at last, bucking his barely-clothed hip against Iwaizumi as he threw his head back on the bed, his heart pulsing and his lips parting to release those barely-contained groans. Iwaizumi reached his prime just moments later, finishing in a similar sense to his boyfriend beneath him. The two lay on their bed, Oikawa still recovering his breath while Iwaizumi dotted a line of kisses down Oikawa’s neck, allowing his tongue to glaze teasingly along the erect nub on his chest which stood proudly amongst a landscape of flushed skin, just begging to be touched.

      “I—Iwa-chan,” Oikawa groaned once again, thrusting his hips up. “My briefs. Take… take them off…”

      Iwaizumi obliged straightaway (much to Oikawa’s surprise) and peeled the briefs from his boyfriend’s hips. Then, he moved down and began to lick against Oikawa’s length, which was beginning to harden just at the touch of his tongue.

      “Ah!” Oikawa grabbed the sheets beneath him tightly, biting down on his lips as he felt himself getting even harder from Iwaizumi’s touch alone. Once Iwaizumi had ascertained that Oikawa was ready, he took the brunette’s length into his mouth, earning himself yet another moan from Oikawa as a reward.

      Iwaizumi bobbed down on Oikawa’s length for a while, teasing and licking until the brunette’s hands settled down on Iwaizumi’s head. Iwaizumi looked up at his boyfriend, whose forehead was slick with sweat.

      “Iwa-chan, so… can I… you know…”

      “You’ll have to prepare me first,” Iwaizumi said, leaning over to the foot of the bed and tossing a bottle of lube over at his boyfriend. “I don’t quite fancy walking like a penguin for the rest of the day.”

      Oikawa nodded. He’d fingered himself a lot of the time, but he’d never actually fingered anyone else. He’d always been the bottom, so he’d never had the opportunity. But now… he could feel himself getting nervous. _What if he hurts Iwa-chan_?

      “It’s okay,” Iwaizumi said, as if sensing his boyfriend’s nerves. “Start off with one finger. Then two. Do what you usually do to yourself. When I tell you to stop, stop.” Iwaizumi was presenting himself to Oikawa in a doggy style position, ass up and face down.

      “Okay.” Oikawa squirted some of the lube onto his fingers, then he squirted some of it on Iwaizumi’s backside. Oikawa began to tease Iwaizumi with one finger, slowly edging it in. “Shit, you’re tight,” Oikawa said, unable to believe just how _tight_ one person could be.

      “Well, this is my first time bottoming,” Iwaizumi admitted in-between little breathy gasps and groans, barely stifled by the sheets beneath him. “Another finger,” he urged. Oikawa was quick to oblige, curling his fingers against Iwaizumi’s prostate. Iwaizumi could feel himself quivering with pleasure; his toes were curling and his breath was running away from him. _How could he have not known what such pleasure felt like? How?_

      It wasn’t long before Iwaizumi had to force out a “Stop”. He hadn’t _wanted_ Oikawa to stop — in fact, he could’ve come from the brunette’s fingers alone — but he knew how excited Oikawa was to top for the first time. He had to let Oikawa have that moment.

      “Okay, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa pulled his fingers out and spanked Iwaizumi almost straightaway, earning himself a deep moan. This one hadn’t been stifled. Oikawa loved the way that Iwaizumi’s tan skin went bright red under his touch; he loved the feel of his boyfriend’s backside against his hand.

      “Oikawa,” Iwaizumi _groaned_ , grasping the sheets beneath him. “Now. Please.” Hearing Iwaizumi beg was something new, something that Oikawa liked. Suddenly, Oikawa completely understood why Iwaizumi usually made him beg so much. It was _hot_.

      “What do you want me to do to you?” Oikawa rolled a lube-slicked condom onto his length while allowing his free hand to knead Iwaizumi’s backside.

      “You know what I want,” Iwaizumi growled.

      “Use your big-boy words, Iwa-chan.”

      “Can you fuck me already?”

      Oikawa was enjoying this. “What’s the magic word?”

      “Fuck you.”

      This time, Oikawa allowed himself to chuckle as he poised himself at Iwaizumi’s entrance, teasing the skin around it. “That was two words, but I’ll forgive you. Now, you’re going to do what I tell you,” Oikawa murmured, gently easing himself in at last. It was that exact moment Iwaizumi said the one word that Oikawa had waited so long to hear.

      “Tooru…” It sent the blood racing through Oikawa’s veins, not only because Iwaizumi was so _tight_ , so _pleasurable_ , but because Iwaizumi had finally called him that. The syllables had fallen from his lips the same way they’d fallen for each other; the same way that cherry blossoms would fall from their branches.

      “You can move,” Iwaizumi continued to say. “I can take it.”

      Oikawa began to move as ordered, all the while trying to keep his movements steady so that Iwaizumi could adjust. Iwaizumi was burying his head into the sheets, groaning and shouting “Tooru!” over and over to himself. It was the only word he could remember right now; not Oikawa; not _harder_ ; but Tooru. It got to the point that Oikawa knew he would come too early if he kept going at this rate. So, in one move, he removed one hand from Iwaizumi’s hip, spat on it and began to jerk Iwaizumi off.

      “Tooru! _Shit_ ,” Iwaizumi hissed, gripping onto the sheets even harder. All that could be heard in the room was a disorganised rhythm of groaning, those wet sounds; breathing; gasping; _Tooru_ and that underlying message of ‘I love you’, evident in the way that Oikawa slicked his hand over Iwaizumi’s length; evident in the way that he kept a keen eye on Iwaizumi’s reactions. And when Iwaizumi was the first to let go, crying out Oikawa’s given name as he fell apart beneath him, Oikawa let go as well, as if setting off some sort of chain reaction.

      “Hajime,” Oikawa gasped, thrusting hard once, twice then thrice as it all left him, Iwaizumi tightening even more around him as he verbalised his own release, full of expletives and that one name, _Tooru_. It was like Iwaizumi’s climax was coming in waves, each one more explosive than the last. It made him arch his back, curl his toes and dig his nails into the now-messed up sheets as his breath returned to him; his heartbeat beginning to regain its usual rhythm as he collapsed onto the bedsheets at last, his boyfriend following shortly behind him.

      The two didn’t speak for a while — they _couldn’t_. They were both breathing so heavily they were sure that they’d pass out any second. They didn’t. They regained their composure, breath after breath, until they could finally speak.

      “You’re meant to pull out, you know,” Iwaizumi remarked dryly.

      “I know. But you’re so _warm_.”

      The two chuckled to themselves, even though they were sticky with sweat and lube and all sorts. Oikawa _did_ pull out just moments later, trying to roll off his condom in the simple way he’d always seen Iwaizumi do. It took him a couple of tries, but he finally managed to get it off and into the nearest bin.

      “Iwa-chan, come here.” Iwaizumi obliged, getting up from the bed. However, his walking was anything _but_ normal. Iwaizumi looked a little confused when Oikawa began to laugh, pointing at his legs. “You weren’t—you weren’t kidding about the penguin part!”

      Iwaizumi’s cheeks flushed red. “Eh?”

      “You really _do_ walk like a penguin. I’m glad though,” Oikawa said, walking into the bathroom. “Now you’re really mine.” He had a proud smile on his face, one which not even an irritated swat of the cheek from Iwaizumi could get rid of.

      “Let’s take a shower together,” Oikawa continued to say. “Then, I’ll take you to a place of your choice. What do you think about America?”

      Iwaizumi’s eyes widened. “America? Oi, come on. I have a job.”

      “It’ll only be for a week. Surely you can just do some work while you’re there, right?” Oikawa smiled. “My parents are staying at this villa in California. We can pay them a visit.”

      At first, what Oikawa was proposing didn’t quite register in Iwaizumi’s head. Then, he began to piece it together. He was remembering their last argument, when he’d said that they’d never gone anywhere together; that he’d never met Oikawa’s parents. _Oikawa’s making amends_.

      “But… I thought you didn’t want this to move too quickly,” Iwaizumi said. “You know. You were saying you weren’t ready…”

      “The key word there is _didn’t_ , Iwa-chan. Past tense. This is the present, and I’m saying I want you to meet my parents. If they don’t like you, they can suck it.” Oikawa took his boyfriend’s hands, slid his hands up to Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “You’re the man I love. Deal with it.”

      Iwaizumi just smiled. His boyfriend had always been a man of impulse; one who never really thought things through. And, to be honest, Iwaizumi didn’t mind anymore. Oikawa’s spontaneity was fun, and it kept Iwaizumi on his toes. Always guessing, always alert.

      “I’ve got no choice then, right?” Iwaizumi stepped into the shower. It was blasting with slightly too-warm water which threatened to burn Iwaizumi’s hair off if he wasn’t careful. He turned the dial down a little and looked over at Oikawa. He pulled the brunette in, only for him to almost slip over his own two feet. Iwaizumi was there to catch him before he could fall, holding the brunette close to him. “I won’t let any monsters get you. They’ll just have to put up with the fact that I love you more than they ever could.”

      It warmed Oikawa’s heart to hear those words again, ‘I love you’, since Iwaizumi never really said it that often. He was an affectionate man at heart, no matter how much he tried to disguise it. Oikawa reached out to the shampoo rack, squirted some into his and Iwaizumi’s hands and began to wash Iwaizumi’s hair, relishing the way it felt in his hands.

      “I never went to university,” Oikawa began to say. “I was recruited by Seijoh right after finishing high school, so I never had the chance. I was the youngest player ever to join them, since I was only eighteen years old. But… if I’d gone to university, I would’ve studied astronomy.”

      “So, you like the stars?” Iwaizumi was rubbing shampoo into Oikawa’s hair too, taking care to make sure that no soapy suds tumbled into the brunette’s eyes. Last time Iwaizumi had accidentally let some suds fall into the brunette’s eyes, he’d spent a total of four hours complaining about it. (Yeah, Iwaizumi wouldn’t make that mistake again.)

      “Yeah. I’ve never pursued it because of volleyball, but I did always wonder what it would be like to work for NASA.” Oikawa had a wistful smile on his face. “I don’t think about it now. You know, volleyball’s my life. But… it does come to mind from time to time.”

      “I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi said at last, the words so fast Oikawa barely caught them. “I’m sorry.” The words were slower this time. “I shouldn’t have left you that time. I was thinking about myself, my irritation.”

      “No. I don’t blame you for not trusting me.” Oikawa shook his head. “I mean, you’re not the first person to think that Kuroo and I are secretly gay for one another. Remember the BL manga that was circulating about Kuroo and me?” Some sports fanatic had decided to create BL manga depicting Kuroo and Oikawa in a sexual relationship together. They’d been an instant hit, so much that ‘Seijoh BL’ had become a genre in itself. The next most popular pairing in the genre was a three-way relationship between Bokuto, Kuroo and Akaashi. This pairing was followed by Hinata and Nishinoya. Safe enough to say, manga isn’t always right.

      “I remember.”

      “But hey, Iwa-chan. Kuroo’s more of a brother than anything else to me,” Oikawa said. “We’ve been best friends for years, so the idea of… you know…”

      “I know. It’s stupid,” Iwaizumi finally said. “I can’t help my jealousy much, but I’ll try to understand.”

      Oikawa smiled. “Alright!” He began to wash the shampoo out of Iwaizumi’s hair, the soapy suds cascading down his neck and along the taut muscle on his body. He’d always been an attractive man, that was for sure. His office work didn’t mean that he would allow himself to slack on his fitness. He often did workouts with Oikawa to keep fit (although it would usually end up with the two making out).

      “Hey, Oikawa.” The two rotated so that Oikawa was now the one being subjected to the jets of water, the same ones washing the shampoo out of his hair. “Would you… would you run if I mentioned anything about marriage?”


	29. Reaching a Conclusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I just want to apologise for taking so long to upload these last two chapters. I've had them written for quite some time but never got round to uploading because my style of writing's been changing as of recent and I wasn't quite sure whether to just launch into that or to continue with the style I started writing this in, but I decided that I couldn't leave this fic hanging forever, so here are the last two chapters!

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Reaching a Conclusion

      It was eleven o’clock at night when Oikawa sauntered into the gym. It was no surprise that Kageyama didn’t even bother to turn his head to check who it was. Instead, Kageyama spoke out into the silence of the gym, knowing that Oikawa was listening.

      “What are you going to tell me today?”

      Kageyama tossed the ball up while taking those now-familiar steps, his body seamlessly transitioning into the air as if Kageyama was one with the court. He belonged here. He _belonged_. The serenity which kept his mind clear, the sweat which practically glued his shirt to his torso, and the volleyball that was in front of him. He whacked it slap-bang in the middle, watching as the ball flew yonder into the opponent’s territory. He landed gracefully on both feet, leaning down slightly before righting himself back up once again. The serve had curved perfectly, although that was to be expected from Kageyama. Oikawa no longer watched with disbelief in his eyes, but with envy.

      “I can’t take your spot? I’m nothing but a cleaner boy? Go ahead,” Kageyama said, turning to face Oikawa at last. “I’ll fight you every step of the way.”

      Oikawa’s lips curled into a snarl. “Someone’s cocky. Well, Tobio-chan. I’m here to tell you that even if you take my spot now, I’ll only take it right back off you. You might have a cool serve,” he said, bending down to pick up a stray ball from the ground, “but skills will never make up for chemistry.”

      Without warning, Oikawa served the ball in Kageyama’s direction. Kageyama, having anticipated that Oikawa would try something like that, was able to dodge the serve with ease. However, it bounced off a nearby item and flew right back at Kageyama’s face, hitting him square in the cheek. The cleaner fell over, much to Oikawa’s delight.

      “The court is mine, it will be mine and it will _always_ be mine.”

      Kageyama didn’t respond. He just looked up at Oikawa’s prideful expression from the ground, wondering just what was going on in this guy’s head. _Oikawa’s been slacking off for so long, but now that I look at him… it’s as if he’s remembered what made him love volleyball in the first place. It’s as if he rediscovered his purpose to play._

      “You can join Seijoh if you want, although I’d prefer if you didn’t so that I can crush whatever team you join.” Kageyama was slightly irritated about how Oikawa sounded so casual about it. _It’s not that easy to beat me, asshole_. “Either way, if you join Seijoh, you’ll be benched the second I step back into the game. I’m not going to come back here again. I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out that curve serve of yours.”

      Oikawa grabbed another ball from the ball trolley and tossed it up in the same way he’d seen Kageyama do, having replicated every movement to the T. Even the run was similar, from the tempo of the steps to the height of his jump. At last, he allowed the ball to skim across his fingers and against his palm. It curved, but it didn’t even make it over the net. It lacked power.

      “You’re throwing it too far, so you’re straining to reach the ball.”

      “I know that,” Oikawa muttered. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

      “I don’t intend to become a professional volleyball athlete anyway,” Kageyama said, slowly getting back up to his feet at last. “I’ve got dreams of my own.”

      Kageyama knew what he wanted to do now. He had the image clear in his mind, clearer than water. Those dreams of his contained Tsukishima, that stupid irritating snarky blonde he cared about so much.

      “But,” Kageyama continued, “that doesn’t mean I plan on letting you dominate the court either.”

      “Well, it’s either you dethrone me or you let me run my court. What will it be, Tobio-chan?”

      “You’ll see.” Kageyama got up onto his feet and walked right up to Oikawa.

      “You don’t get two kings on one court, Tobio-chan.”

      “You don’t get one king dominating the entire court. Each side has their own king,” Kageyama said. “How else do you think it’s possible for each side to oppose one another?”

      And in a sense, that was how volleyball worked. The setter was the brain behind the operation. Without a setter, there’s no-one to set up effective attacks. No-one to pull off impossible feats; no-one to raise morale. Without those three things, you can never win. Setters are natural-born kings, but that doesn’t make the other players peasants. It makes them privileged. Strong. And then there’s the ace, the chosen one. The ace who powers through when there’s no hope left; the ace who will force a point when there’s nowhere left to go. The setter makes attacking possible.

      Kings maintain order, just like a setter. Some are loved, and some aren’t.

      Some could argue that being a setter isn’t like being a king at all. Setters aren’t more important than wing spikers or middle blockers. They’re all just as significant as each other. But, in Kageyama’s view, a setter was the best thing to be.

      To be the setter was to be the king of everything. Or at least, the king of the court. But… Kageyama didn’t want to be the king of the court anymore. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he wanted to be more than some bobblehead king with fancy serves. He wanted to be _more_. Not defined by the label of king, but defined by his name. Kageyama Tobio. He wanted the world to know his name. He wanted the world to know him, not his past. His talents, not his blunders.

      He wanted to be reborn on the court.

      “A captain isn’t automatically a king,” Oikawa insisted.

      “But a king isn’t automatically a captain.”

      The brunette growled in irritation, cracking his knuckles together as he looked over at Kageyama. “God… I can’t wait to crush you in a match, my dear kouhai. I really can’t wait.”

      “You can’t crush me.” Kageyama got the ball trolley at last, beginning to walk around the court while picking up the stray balls. “Remember? There’s six players on a court. The team with the better six is the stronger…”

      Oikawa paused for a moment, went to speak multiple times, but at last settled for shutting his mouth and quietly walking away, knowing that Kageyama would soon appear in front of him. Oikawa wouldn’t be able to truly rest until he defeated Kageyama officially, after all.

      Until that moment came, he would wait.

      _If Kageyama thinks that it’s possible to get two kings on one court, he’s going to have to come and prove it himself. Not with words, but with his volleyball_.

      “I’m waiting for you, Kageyama. Hurry up and get on the court,” Oikawa said, although it was quietly to himself as he walked through the set of double doors and into the main corridor. He doubted that Kageyama had heard him, but if he had… hopefully, Kageyama would get the message. He needed to hurry up and _play_.

      And once they finally played against each other… everything would become clear at last.

***

      When Kageyama walked into Tsukishima’s house later on that night, it was with one less worry on his mind. Oikawa had been just as antagonistic as usual, but strangely enough, it seemed that Oikawa respected Kageyama in his own twisted way. That was why the brunette had vowed that he wouldn’t be coming back to the gym again. The next time the two would see each other, it would be in a match.

      “Hey,” Tsukishima said, holding out two different bottles of sake. “Which one do you want?”

      “Neither. What did you want to talk about?”

      Tsukishima placed the bottles of sake on a nearby table, slightly shocked that Kageyama had actually _refused_ the sake, and walked over to the velvet couch to sit next to Kageyama.

      “I need to explain something to you,” Tsukishima said. “It’s about Yamaguchi.”

      It had taken Tsukishima a while to reach the conclusion, but now he was sure. He wouldn’t have to worry about Yamaguchi twisting the truth unless Tsukishima told Kageyama all the facts.

      “Oh. Okay.” Kageyama nodded. “Go ahead.”

      “Yamaguchi hates me. He dropped out of university because he couldn’t bear to be around me, even if he denies it. I used him to keep myself occupied because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. At the time, I knew you were struggling so I never said anything, but I liked you. Even then.” Tsukishima sighed, rubbed his forehead. “I clarified that I never wanted things to be serious. Yamaguchi agreed. But then he started to want more. Dates. Boyfriend status. All of that. I couldn’t give it to him because I was still holding out for you. I didn’t like him, not in that way.”

      Kageyama was slightly puzzled. “Why are you telling me this?”

      “Because he likes you.”

      “Eh?” Kageyama blinked at Tsukishima, not really believing what the blonde was saying. “What do you mean?”

      “A couple of days ago, I went to talk to him. He was planning to tell you that I would use you, that you can’t trust me. You know. He’s hated me ever since university, so… he decided it would be nice to kill two birds with one stone.”

      “But I don’t like him. He’s kind, but… he comes on a bit strong.”

      The words made Tsukishima feel frustrated but relieved at the same time. Relieved that Kageyama didn’t seem to be interested in Yamaguchi, but also frustrated that Yamaguchi couldn’t get the hint and _leave Kageyama alone_.

      “The point is,” Tsukishima said, “I don’t want to hide anything from you. I was a pretty shitty person in the past.”

      Kageyama let out a snort of laughter. “In the past? Yeah right. You’re still an asshole.”

      Tsukishima laughed. “Alright, alright. Fair enough.”

      “I want to move forward with you, Tsukishima.” Kageyama took Tsukishima’s hands into his, looked straight into those golden eyes of his. “Will you let me?”

      The blonde blinked back at Kageyama through his lenses. “What do you mean by moving forward?”

      “Well… we’ve been kissing and stuff, but we’re not exactly _relationship_ status… right? I don’t know how this works,” Kageyama admitted, a shaky smile on his lips.

      “I thought we were. You know. Boyfriend and girlfriend.”

      “Eh? Are we?”

      Tsukishima was the one to blush this time, a genuine blush which fanned about his cheeks. “Well… if you want to then…”

      “So, you’re my boyfriend…”

      He clicked his tongue. “Don’t sound so sad about it.”

      Kageyama laughed, his nervousness fading away at last. “I’m not sad. I’m relieved.”

      “So, what happens now?”

      “We kiss.”

      “Then…” Tsukishima raised an eyebrow.

      “We kiss a little more.”

      “Then…” The other eyebrow was raised.

      “I stay the night. Only if you want me to though, I don’t want to intrude—” Tsukishima crouched down, hoisted his boyfriend onto his back and began to sprint over to his bedroom. Tsukishima wasn’t going to waste a second of this. No _way_. All Kageyama could do was laugh at how determined Tsukishima was to make it to his bedroom without stumbling over the many pairs of socks that were on the floor. Through some strange miracle, Tsukishima was able to make it to the bed and place Kageyama down safely without any disastrous falls.

      “I’ll sleep on a futon,” the blonde said, making his way back out of the room.

      “No, it’s fine. We can sleep together,” Kageyama insisted. “It’s not that different from sleeping on the couch together, right?”

      Tsukishima just _knew_ that if he were to sleep next to Kageyama in a bed of all places, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from getting hard, no matter how many times he thought about dinosaurs getting hit by meteors. His attraction to this man who was staring at him… it was just too strong.

      “I shouldn’t,” Tsukishima said at last, clearing his throat. “You need your space.” He didn’t want to ruin the mood between them, not now.

      “I’m in your house,” Kageyama insisted. “I’ll take the futon, then.”

      “No. It’s fine. Take the bed, it’s more comfortable.”

      “But—”

      “I even used my best covers. The ones with the pterodactyls on them.”

      Kageyama couldn’t help but smile. Tsukishima’s covers _were_ quite interesting. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep here? There’s room for the both of us.”

      “I’m sure.” Tsukishima wanted to sleep next to him, _god_ he did, but he knew that he would run the risk of scaring Kageyama if he somehow found himself with an erection in the middle of the night. “I don’t need you snoring in my ear.”

      “I don’t snore! Asshole!”

      “Yeah. You snortle.”

      “What the hell is a snortle?”

      “Snoring and chortling at the same time.”

      Kageyama threw a dinosaur stuffy at Tsukishima, who dodged it with ease. “Die.”

      “The Tsukishimas never die.”

      “Except you.”

      Tsukishima really _did_ feel like he’d die any second. It was driving him crazy, thinking about how much he wanted Kageyama. How he wanted to feel those gentle slopes of skin beneath his hands; how he wanted to pinch and tease this man until his porcelain skin was flush with arousal; how he wanted to do _every naughty thing there was_.

      “You look like you’re about to throw up,” Kageyama pointed out.

      “No.” Tsukishima smiled, shook his head. “I’m fine.”

***

      Tsukishima found himself waking up in the middle of the night when he heard crying. It was barely audible — in fact, maybe he might’ve been hearing things — but he knew that sound. He quietly stood up, noting that Kageyama was facing away from the futon, and walked over to the other side of the bed. There Kageyama was, tears quietly streaming down his cheeks. Neither of them spoke. Tsukishima slid under the covers and began to wipe Kageyama’s tears away. They just kept coming though; they wouldn’t stop.

      “I had a dream,” Kageyama finally said. “About you. You got sick of me, me never being ready for anything and you left… and the bullies from school came back. They threw volleyballs at me and they kept throwing and throwing and—” A loud sob cut off his words, one which had him closing his eyes and trying to stop the tears.

      “You’re perfect,” Tsukishima whispered, stroking his hair and wiping the cleaner’s tears away. “I don’t want to leave you.”

      “But I’m not! All I ever do is panic and get nervous. I let people step all over me. I can barely think for myself. I’m scarred. I’m damaged. I’m not perfect, Tsukishima.”

      “Yes you are,” the blonde insisted fiercely, patting any dried tears off Kageyama’s porcelain cheek. “I don’t care what dream me said to you. I’m telling you that you’re perfect and that I don’t plan on leaving you.”

      “What if I’m never ready? I know… I know you have needs.”

      “We have eternity, Kageyama. That’s all we need.” Tsukishima began to stroke his hair, listening for those sighs of contentment. “I want you in my life. Forever.”

      “Forever?”

      “Forever.” Their lips slipped together, connecting in the same way they always did. Kageyama reached out for his boyfriend, keeping their warm bodies together as their lips fell apart at last. “I promise you.”

      “That’s almost like a wedding proposal,” Kageyama said, the tears stopping short at last. Tsukishima wiped any remaining tears away, his touch like small kisses along the cleaner’s skin.

      “Would you say yes?”

      Kageyama’s cheeks flushed a subtle pink. “Maybe…”

      Tsukishima grinned and wrapped his arm around Kageyama’s chest, keeping them close. “You can go back to sleep. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

      “Thank you.” A lazy smile appeared on Kageyama’s face — an _actual_ smile — as he relaxed into Tsukishima’s touch, relishing the feel of Tsukishima’s warm breath against his neck. It was warm, so warm that it wasn’t long before Kageyama had drifted off to sleep once again, letting out little ‘snortles’ every now and again. Tsukishima didn’t mind though, not really. He’d be putting up with this for the rest of his life, after all.


	30. Bonus Chapter

Bonus Chapter

      “Wake up, dumbass. I got you presents.”

      Tsukishima placed two gift boxes on Kageyama’s lap, hoping that it would be enough to wake Kageyama up. When he _still_ didn’t shift, Tsukishima clicked his tongue in annoyance and flicked Kageyama’s forehead.

      “It’s our anniversary, you know. Do you plan to sleep through the whole thing?”

      “I’m tired,” was Kageyama’s muttered response. “Do you know how exhausting it is to be on the receiving end of Oikawa’s serves?” His eyes slid shut once again as he cupped a hand to his lips, containing a loud yawn.

      “What if I told you that I got you a limited edition Mikasa volleyball?”

      Suddenly, Kageyama began to perk up a lot more. His eyes sprung open and his hands instinctively reached towards the heavier box, pulling it closer to him so that he could peel the wrapping off with ease. He grinned when he saw that there was indeed a Mikasa volleyball snug inside the box, waiting for him to hold it in his hands. Kageyama held the ball in the hands, appreciating everything from the design to the curves to the new ball smell.

      “You’re the best,” Kageyama said.

      “I know.” Tsukishima smirked to himself. “Open the other, Coach.”

      “Okay, okay.”

      Kageyama opened the other gift box, rushing the unwrapping process slightly more than was unnecessary. Once it was off, he prised the box open, only to frown when he saw that there was nothing inside of it. He placed his hand inside, explored the inside _and_ the outside of the box with his hand and then he double-checked the gift wrapping to make sure that he hadn’t missed anything. After five minutes of Kageyama insisting he knew what it was while Tsukishima laughed at him, Kageyama relented at last and asked what the gift was meant to be.

      “It’s a representation of your brain.”

      “Wow.” Kageyama folded his arms in indignation. “On my birthday, too. Such an asshole.”

      “That’s no way to talk to your husband,” Tsukishima teased.

      The sun was peeking through the blinds, brightening the bedroom and highlighting the teasing grin on the blonde’s face. Kageyama couldn’t help but admire how Tsukishima seemed to revel in the sunlight. Tsukishima avoided the sun like the plague though, which gave Kageyama the impression that Tsukishima was a secret vampire. It would explain why he was so pale, after all.

      “You’ve got that match against Shiratorizawa today, huh?”

      Kageyama nodded. “Yeah.”

      “Smash it out the park for me, you understand?”

      Kageyama had eventually joined Seijoh. Just not as a player. He’d decided that rather than becoming the king of the court, he’d be the one making the kings of the court. There was a certain sense of pride that came with being the setter, the ‘king’, but it was infinitely more rewarding to be the one who was able to sit and inspire everyone from above. If the setter was the king, then the coach was a god. Watching over everyone, offering guidance whenever needed and of course, giving people his blessings. It felt a lot more rewarding; more rewarding than anyone else could’ve known. He’d also reached some sort of mutual understanding with Oikawa, although it didn’t stop the brunette from being a bit of an asshole from time to time.

      “You’ve got that important court case coming up too. Right, Lawyer-san?”

      “Yeah. That’s in January, though.” Tsukishima leaped onto the bed, lying on top of the duvet as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Bring me back a win. Oh, and the dry cleaning. I forgot to go yesterday.”

      Kageyama rolled his eyes. “Of course I will. But if I’m bringing the dry cleaning, you’re bringing the milk.”

      Tsukishima sat up and leant over to touch his lips to Kageyama’s, a short yet blissful kiss that picked up Tsukishima’s mood instantly. Tsukishima knew it was probably the time to say something sweet, but as usual, his mouth moved before his heart could. “Are you a cow? Why do you drink so much milk?”

      “Are you a dog? Why are you bitching so much about it?”

      Tsukishima clicked his tongue, although he didn’t bother to respond. Kageyama really had become quicker with his comebacks over the past few years. Then again, he was stuck on a team with loads of huge personalities. He wouldn’t be able to keep control of them all if he didn’t grow as a person, after all. Tsukishima knew that. It was still irritating though, especially considering that Tsukishima had always prided himself on being the master of comebacks.

      “You’re so broody.”

      “Your face is broody.”

      Kageyama freed himself from the duvet and leant down to join his lips with Tsukishima’s, clutching the blonde’s face as tenderly as humanly possible. When their lips slipped apart at last, Kageyama allowed himself to smile. “Happy fourth anniversary, by the way.”

***

      “Kenma, I’m back!” Yamaguchi walked in through the door, still wearing his lab coat. “Guess what?! We found a cure!”

      Kenma looked up from his game to regard his boyfriend, who had the biggest grin on his face known to man. Kenma couldn’t help but reflect this grin, setting the game down on the chair as he sat up and went over to him. “Cure for what?”

      “AIDS. It’s a series of injections that can restore the body’s immune system to its usual state! Joseph volunteered to undergo the injections and we got the results back last night. His immune system’s starting to return to normal.” Yamaguchi was buzzing about with excitement, his cheeks flushed and his eyes dancing with joy. “The media’s going to go wild about this. They’ve been waiting to see what me and my team would cure next. We already got a sure-fire cure for hyperhidrosis. There’s already a cure for cancer somewhere out there, but we can’t get involved with that. You know, the media wouldn’t dare air that kind of stuff…”

      “You’re so talkative.” Kenma let his hand smooth over the brunette’s hair, although that one stubborn lock of hair just _wouldn’t go down_. It didn’t matter, though. Kenma liked that lock of hair.

      “I’m sorry. Man, I’m just so excited! Hey, you know the Seijoh match is today? They’re finally doing their rematch against Shiratorizawa. Do you reckon they’ll win this time? With Kageyama leading them, they’re sure to win! The others are going to that place with the good ramen and HD televisions. We should go, right?”

      Kenma nodded. “I’ll drive.”

      “Whoo!” Yamaguchi’s lips collided with Kenma’s as the brunette took him by the waist and began to spin him about. “I’m so excited,” he said in-between kisses, laughing and dancing to himself. Ever since the two had gotten together, Yamaguchi had just been an unstoppable ball of _energy_. Kenma struggled to keep up with him most days, but when the nights got quiet and it was just the two of them, that was when they connected the most.

      “Last one to the car is a rotten egg!” Yamaguchi sprinted out towards the door at last, Kenma just calmly walking out behind the brunette. He didn’t mind being a rotten egg. It was better than being called ‘pudding’. Either way, being Yamaguchi’s was the best. He liked being called that, _really_ liked it.

      “You’re a rotten egg!”

      “What does that make you?”

      Yamaguchi thought for a moment. “A… A non-rotten egg.”

      “Alright. Let’s go.” The two allowed their lips to join once more before getting in the car, Yamaguchi singing along to pop songs while Kenma sat there on his console, allowing his eyes to glance over to the overly-loud Yamaguchi every now and again. If anything, Kenma was glad that Yamaguchi had finally gotten over the whole idea of getting revenge on Tsukishima. Yamaguchi was finally focusing on his own happiness. In this case, Kenma _was_ his happiness. Oh, and the science lab.

      “I wanna fold clothes for you! Ooh! I want to make you feel _good_!”

      “Tadashi, there’s a red ligh—”

      “Baby, I want to do the right thing~~” Yamaguchi ran the red light, not even realising what he’d done. “So much better than the wrong thing~~”

      “Tadashi.”

      Yamaguchi turned to face Kenma at last. “Hmm?”

      “This is why I said that I wanted to drive.” They both looked up, realising that Yamaguchi had been driving in an entirely different direction. They were on a highway which led to Nagano, rather than the gymnasium where Yamaguchi had previously worked at.

      “Sorry. But these Western artists have really catchy songs…”

      “Because _folding clothes_ is so catchy.”

      “It is!”

      “Is not.”

      “Is!”

      There was a pause before Kenma said “Is not”.

      “Is.”

      “Is not.”

***

      “Iwa-chan, you can stop worrying. My knee will be fine,” Oikawa insisted, kissing his husband on the cheek. “I promise. I’ll demolish Shiratorizawa the right way today. I’ll tell someone if my knee’s hurting. You know Tobio-chan won’t let injuries pass.”

      “That’s true.” Iwaizumi was a lot calmer, knowing that the eagle-eyed Kageyama would be keeping an eye on things. They were standing outside the Osaka Municipal Central Gymnasium, saying some last words to each other before they went inside. “I’ll be watching you.”

      “Good. You can take me out for dinner after we win!”

      Iwaizumi chuckled to himself. “It’s a date, Oikawa.”

      “Whoo! My parents are going to be watching as well! Hey, I think that’s them. Mom! Dad!” Oikawa sprinted towards two middle-aged people, both with hair similar to Oikawa’s. Oikawa’s father had brown hair cropped close to his scalp, while his mother’s hair was shoulder-length and a fluffy brown.

      “Hey, Tooru.” The two parents looked at their son, then at his husband. They couldn’t forget what had happened the first time that their Tooru had allowed them to meet Iwaizumi. He’d been so _polite_ that it almost hurt. Then, Tooru had just asked them out of nowhere if they would support him marrying Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi himself had seemed shocked, but they couldn’t have said no after seeing how lovingly the two had looked at one another. Even if Japan didn’t recognise them as a married couple, as long as they had the rings on their fingers, they were married. That was all that mattered.

      Now, they were here.

      “Good afternoon, Mayura. Tsukiko,” Iwaizumi said, nodding at each parent in turn. Even _now_ , Iwaizumi tried his hardest to be respectful towards Oikawa’s parents.

      “Good afternoon, Iwaizumi.” The both of them smiled at Iwaizumi. While they were still disappointed that Oikawa wouldn’t be marrying a girl and giving them grandchildren, they couldn’t remain immune to Iwaizumi’s charm. He kept Oikawa in line _and_ he also made the brunette happy. No matter their personal beliefs, they couldn’t ignore that.

      “Mom, Dad! You’re about to watch me _thrash_ Shitty—Shiratorizawa,” Oikawa said, slapping a hand to his chest proudly. “It’ll be monumental! I promise!” He definitely wasn’t going to make the mistakes he did last year. With strong teammates by his side, he was going to smash this match right out of the park.

      “We believe you,” Mayura said, chuckling at her son’s brashness. “Go ahead. We’ll be watching.”

      “I will!” Oikawa sprinted away from the three of them, making his way through the entrance. Soon, he’d vanished from sight. They proceeded to make their way over to the spectator’s area, engaging in conversation about the weather. It wasn’t much, but they accepted Iwaizumi. That was all the editor wanted.

***

      Everyone’s eyes were glued to the court. The running, the air salonpas, the spiking, the roars and cries each time the ball hit the ground. Their feet repetitively hitting the ground again and again, Oikawa’s tosses which sailed straight to Bokuto’s hand before being slammed down onto the opposition’s court, the libero who dashed to receive Bokuto’s spike. Everyone was connecting, again and again and again.

      “Yes!” Yamamoto slammed his fists on the table, roaring each time a point was scored.

      “Push it, push it, Seijoh! Ose ose, Seijoh,” the crowd would roar each time Seijoh forced a point away from Shiratorizawa. They kept pushing, again and again. They were stealing this game by force.

      “Yes!” Kageyama would clutch his fists in excitement each time a good serve was made, each time Nishinoya dashed to receive the ball, each time the _team_ worked together to create opportunities. This was volleyball. _This_ was volleyball.

      There were parents in the crowd, kids in the crowd, _everyone_ in the crowd. Shiratorizawa supporters, Seijoh supporters and people who had been dragged along without any prior knowledge of volleyball. They were all engaged, their eyes glued to the movement of the ball. Those quick spikes that Hinata would do, that middle blocker who taunted his opponents with his obnoxious yells and cheers of joy every time he pulled off a successful spike.

      There was silence when the last ball hit the ground. There was a scorecard being changed. And then, a roar of victory.

      “Ladies and gentlemen, this is monumental! Shiratorizawa have been dethroned from their number one spot! Seijoh are now number one in Japan!” The reporters were going crazy. Shiratorizawa wasn’t crying, although they looked distraught. They were probably saving their tears for the coach.

      Seijoh were hugging, only for Hinata and Nishinoya to bound towards them and knock them all over. They were a mass of bodies on the floor, crying and laughing and breathing so hard they felt like they’d faint any second. They’d finally won. They were number one.

      “You were right,” Akaashi said. He’d been sitting next to Kageyama, a small smile lining his face. “It’s possible to have two kings on one court.”

***

      It wasn’t until the new year that Kageyama was able to recover from all the media attention that Seijoh had been receiving. Tsukishima and Kageyama were standing at Suga Shrine, making their wishes while wrapped up in warm winter clothing.

      “What did you wish for?”

      Tsukishima smiled. “It won’t come true if I tell you.”

      “You wished for the dinosaurs to come back, didn’t you?”

      The blonde frowned. “Oi. Now it won’t come true.”

      Kageyama began to laugh, one of those ugly laughs where he’d snort while trying to hold his amusement back. “Ha… I’m sorry…”

      “You’re clearly not.”

      “Fine, fine.” Kageyama managed to contain his laughter at last, although he was still grinning. “I wished for our health and happiness as a couple.”

      “Really?”

      A more serene smile spread across the coach’s face. “Yeah. Really.”

      “You’re being greedy with that wish, idiot.”

      “It’s better to be greedy than to be compliant.” Kageyama grabbed Tsukishima’s arm and walked over to their car, looking around himself. The sky appeared to be pure white, the air was just that little bit cold and the clouds were suspended in the air, grey against a white background. This was January.

      “I’m driving,” Tsukishima insisted.

      “Who’s the one with the car keys again?” When Kageyama received no reply, a smug smile crossed his lips. “Yeah. That’s right. Get in the passenger seat.”

      “Die.” Tsukishima slid into the passenger seat, glaring over at Kageyama. The coach simply grinned to himself as he got into the driver’s seat and began to drive the short distance to their new home. It wasn’t really _new_ , since they’d been living together for quite some time, but Kageyama still thought of it as being new. It still had that ‘new house’ feel; the coach still had his moments where he’d forget which room was which. He mainly missed his cat, Gun Gun, but Tsukishima had proposed that they get a dog and call it ‘Rifle Rifle’. (He’d burst out in laughter right after, so Kageyama had quickly realised that the blonde had been joking. Kageyama genuinely liked the name, though.)

      Now that they were home, it felt like some sort of dream. The snow had finally begun to fall, small wisps of frozen water landing over the couple. The two engaged in eye contact for a moment, Tsukishima’s golden eyes boring into Kageyama’s. It was times like this that the blonde just wanted to take his husband straight to the bedroom, but it wasn’t the time. He’d remind himself of how happy Kageyama was right now and that would be enough to banish any naughty thoughts from his head.

      “I’m sorry. We didn’t get to celebrate our anniversary properly because of the match,” Kageyama began to say.

      “Hey. You won. That’s celebration enough,” Tsukishima insisted. “You’re happy, aren’t you?”

      “Yeah,” the coach admitted, a look of elation crossing his face. It brought colour to his cheeks, made his eyes dance with joy; it made Tsukishima’s heart thud against his ribcage just that bit faster. They’d known each other for how long, twelve years? Yet, the coach _still_ affected Tsukishima in ways he couldn’t understand. It was like a dream. “But… are you happy?”

      Tsukishima nodded. “Yeah. I’m happy.”

      “Then, let’s go inside.” Kageyama’s hand was clasped by Tsukishima’s gloved hand as the two walked into their house, slipping their trainers off at the entrance and advancing into the kitchen.

      “What do you say we celebrate with our favourite tipple?” Tsukishima rushed forward and grabbed a bottle of sake out of the fridge, holding it up to his husband. “After all, we’re finally alone.”

      “You have to go back to the firm tomorrow,” Kageyama scolded, taking the bottle out of the blonde’s hand. “That case is important. Even though you can’t tell me anything about it… it’s important if you’ve been putting in this much energy into it.” While Kageyama had been hard at work with Seijoh, Tsukishima had been busy working with his law firm. He’d finally decided to put his law degree to some use and joined a law firm in Tokyo. He was thrust into instant success after winning case after case. Now, he had a reputation as one of the best lawyers in Tokyo. Sure, there were times where he’d come pretty close to being held in contempt by judges and there were times where he’d be accused of using the courtroom as a battle ground. But nobody could deny one thing — the blonde _always_ got results. He was like the male, blonde, sassier version of Annalise Keating, so to say. (So basically, nothing like Annalise Keating at all.)

      “I know. I’m only having one glass,” Tsukishima insisted, reaching out for the bottle. Kageyama was holding it out of the blonde’s reach, much to his annoyance. “It gives me that Dutch courage. You know…”

      “I want to show you something.” Tsukishima looked at his husband, slightly shocked when he realised that Kageyama was looking just as serious as he would before a match.

      “What is it?”

      “I… I can’t show you yet.” Kageyama was blushing. “You have to be patient.”

      “Hmm… did you get a tattoo of my name?”

      “No. I don’t want to catch salt poisoning.”

      Tsukishima clicked his tongue. “Die.”

      Kageyama laughed. Tsukishima was relieved that he’d managed to lighten the mood a little. “Come upstairs. I’ll show you.” The blonde smiled and grabbed Kageyama’s hand, racing up the stairs with him. The two tumbled into their bedroom, Tsukishima letting go as the door clicked shut behind them.

      “Am I going to have to play treasure hunt or some shit?”

      “No, no. I… I’ll show you now.” Kageyama gulped hard and looked down at himself, now wondering whether he should go ahead with this or not. But every time he reminded himself of how Tsukishima was there for him, how the blonde had sat there with him through all of his therapy sessions… he couldn’t bring himself to back out. He wanted to do this, he _did_.

      “Hey. You know you don’t have to do anything,” Tsukishima reminded him.

      “I know.” Kageyama smiled at last and settled his hands on the hem of his jumper, taking a deep breath in. “Please don’t stare for too long.” He pulled his woolly jumper up at last, revealing that porcelain skin that Tsukishima had spent so _long_ thinking about. There were a few scars dotted along the coach’s torso, most likely acne scars. But what Tsukishima was drawn to were the two piercings on Kageyama’s skin.

      “When’d you get those?”

      Kageyama flushed. “A couple of months ago… I thought it might make me feel a bit more confident. I don’t know.” He looked uncomfortable, awkward. “I’m sorry.”

      “What are you apologising for, idiot? They suit you.”

      “Really?” Kageyama’s eyes brightened up in joy. “You… you like them?”

      “Of course.” Tsukishima had to tear his eyes away from Kageyama’s body at last, remembering the coach’s reminder that he shouldn’t stare for too long. But he was addicted to those smooth planes of muscle. It wasn’t like he was a bodybuilder, but during his years as a coach, he’d become just that bit more muscular. There were those two little lines, dipping below Kageyama’s waistline. The joggers he wore were hanging off his waist, just _begging_ to be torn off.

      “I’m sorry for making you wait so long.” Kageyama stepped forwards and looked up at his Tsukishima, who was already looking right at him. “This is me. Scars, pale skin… it’s not much. But it’s me.”

      “It’s more than enough.” Tsukishima’s hands reached out for Kageyama, but when he flinched, Tsukishima stopped moving. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to…”

      “I love you.” Kageyama was the one to rush forwards, steal Tsukishima’s lips and wrap his arms around the blonde’s waist, feeling like they’d melt into one another any second. Tsukishima’s hands entangled themselves into Kageyama’s dense mop of hair, comforting the coach in the way he’d always done. Tsukishima could feel his husband beginning to get hard; he could just _tell_ he was blushing at the very idea of it. When he pulled away, Tsukishima didn’t need to be told. He pulled his gloves off, then his shirt and then his jeans. He then took off his glasses in a bid to avoid breaking them. Kageyama’s eyes roamed each new glance of skin hungrily. His body was reacting in ways he hadn’t thought possible, his blood boiling and his porcelain skin flushing the longer he stared at the blonde.

      “Can I touch you?” Tsukishima looked enchanted, enamoured by the man standing in front of him. “I won’t hurt you.”

      Kageyama sat on the foot of the bed and pulled his own joggers off, looking at that blonde of his. He nodded and told Tsukishima those same three words that he loved to hear. “I trust you.”

      “Good.” Tsukishima moved forwards and thought quickly about how he’d do this. He had to be gentle, otherwise Kageyama would back out. _What was the best way he could do this?_

      “What’s wrong?” Kageyama looked up at Tsukishima.

      “Would you feel more comfortable if we went under the covers?”

      Kageyama thought for a few moments and nodded, his eyes never leaving Tsukishima’s. “If that’s okay with you, Moon Man.”

      Tsukishima smiled at the nickname. “Under you get, Mount Man.”

      Kageyama obliged. He slid under the covers, Tsukishima following him. The two stared at each other, and then as if magic, their bodies began to move on their own. Tsukishima was on top, kissing along his husband’s exposed skin. He dotted kisses along his sharp jaw, blowing air on the hollows of his neck. Kageyama gasped, whispered the name “Tsukki” to himself. It reminded the blonde of the first time they’d kissed, the first time they’d finally been able to admit their lingering feelings for one another.

      That was on his mind when his lips touched upon one metal piercing at last. Kageyama gasped, promptly slapping a hand over his lips. Tsukishima began to lick about it teasingly, blowing on the side of Kageyama’s taut nipple and then letting his tongue lap along it once again.

      “Tsukki,” he groaned, his hand no longer enough to contain his pleasure. “Oh God… Tsukki… please…” The metal was becoming warm with Tsukishima’s saliva, warm and metallic on the blonde’s lips. He allowed his teeth to glide along the erect nub, nipping as gently as he could. Kageyama arched his back before letting out a deep groan, the sensations going straight to his groin.

      “Fuck… Tsukki, I can’t… It feels good…” Another shuddering groan left the coach’s lips as Tsukishima brought his attention to the other little nub, sucking and teasing it the same way he’d done the other. Kageyama thrust his hips upwards, grinding himself against Tsukishima. The blonde hadn’t been expecting it, so he accidentally bit down on Kageyama’s nipple. Hard. Tsukishima pulled away immediately, an apology already leaving his lips, but Kageyama wasn’t hurt. In fact, his lips were open in a silent groan, his hands clutching the sheets.

      “Did that hurt?”

      Kageyama’s eyes opened, revealing two irises that were heavy with lust and desire. “No.”

      Tsukishima’s hands touched upon the coach’s cheeks, cupped his smooth jaw. “You’re so beautiful.”

      “S…Shut up. Just touch me.”

      Tsukishima smiled as he continued to move lower, kissing a path down to the very-obvious bulge in Kageyama’s boxers. He didn’t take them off. Tsukishima was a little surprised when he felt the blanket over his head disappearing, but he knew that Kageyama was beginning to gain quite a bit of confidence.

      “I want to see you,” he explained. “I… I like this.” The blanket was discarded on the floor. Now, the two of them were open to the world. There was an open window, allowing some snowflakes to slip in and onto the floor.

      “Good. Now, don’t move, otherwise I might accidentally bite you.”

      “Accidentally,” Kageyama muttered. “Yeah.”

      Tsukishima laughed this time, realising that Kageyama was no longer embarrassed. “Don’t worry. I’m no dog.” He kissed along those planes of muscle, biting and suckling in all those places that made Kageyama groan and writhe in ways he never knew possible. It wasn’t until Kageyama yelled out a loud “Please” that Tsukishima decided to move along. The blonde kissed along Kageyama’s bulge and began to take it into his mouth, even while it was still confined by the plain black boxers that Kageyama had on.

      “Tsukki… ha… that’s—” A groan tore from Kageyama’s throat, cutting his sentence off halfway through. “You can take it off… please…” Tsukishima smiled at Kageyama’s eagerness.

      “Your wish is my command.” Tsukishima hooked his fingers into the waistband of Kageyama’s boxers and slipped them down to his knees. It was then that Kageyama’s length sprung out, slick with his own excitement and throbbing with desire.

      “When did you become God?”

      “When I clawed my way up from hell into heaven,” Tsukishima responded, kissing the tip of Kageyama’s cock. The expletive that slipped out from the coach’s lips couldn’t be helped, not at all. “That was the only way I could meet the angels. Angels like you.”

      “Tsukki…” The blonde licked along the underside of Kageyama’s length, only to stop every time Kageyama decided to buck his hips.

      “Stay still, Coach.”

      “Tsukki,” Kageyama complained, getting a pout on his face. “Please.”

      “Okay, okay.” The blonde put both his hands on Kageyama’s hips to stop him from moving and then he took all of Kageyama into his mouth, gargling and trying to make it as wet as he could. At this point, Kageyama wasn’t even trying to hold back his moans anymore. He was clutching the sheets beneath him and groaning so much that he felt like he’d break his voice box any minute. He was breathing heavily, trying to control this feeling he had rising up inside of him. It was hot; fast; heavy; it was something he was quickly losing control over.

      “Tsukki, I think I’m… fuck… I’m—!” The blonde shifted one hand from Kageyama’s hip and set it on Kageyama’s cock, which was slick with his saliva. The blonde began to jerk him off, continuing the swift motion until Kageyama let out that final cry. Kageyama arched his back while opening his lips in a silent cry, his climax ripping through him as he yelled Tsukishima’s name. Kageyama had come a lot harder than Tsukishima had expected. Most of it, if not all of it, had landed on Tsukishima’s face rather than on Kageyama himself, but Tsukishima was surprised at himself for not minding in the slightest. He felt a smile pulling at his face as he lowered his lips to Kageyama’s come-stained body once more, curling and sucking until it was all gone. Kageyama himself had calmed down at last, breathing heavily with his eyes shut. In fact, Tsukishima was pretty sure that he’d fallen asleep.

      “Tobio? You awake?”

      The loud snortle that left Kageyama’s lips was answer enough. Tsukishima smiled as he got up and pulled the thick blanket over his husband’s body, satisfied with today’s events. He was hard, but it didn’t matter. He’d finish himself off somewhere else. Right now, all he cared about was making sure that Kageyama was happy.

***

      When Kageyama next opened his eyes, it was late. Probably midnight, by the looks of it. It took him a couple of moments before he remembered the day’s events, causing him to blush. He realised that Tsukishima still hadn’t come to bed.

      “Tsukki?” Kageyama rubbed his eyes and got up, only to flush even more when he realised that he’d been completely absolved of his clothes.

      He pulled his boxers up — they’d previously been at his ankles — and retrieved his joggers from the ground. He thought about putting a shirt on, but when he remembered how Tsukishima had looked when he’d revealed his nipple piercings, Kageyama let the shirt remain on the floor. He walked downstairs and towards Tsukishima’s study, where the light was still on.

      “Tsukki?” Kageyama poked his head in. There the blonde was, working laboriously at some sheets on his table. They were most likely for the case he’d be defending tomorrow.

      “You’re awake.” Tsukishima got up and rubbed his own eyes. He himself had been close to falling asleep. Staring at sheets and screens for hours really did take a toll on him, he’d realised. “You hungry?”

      “No, I’m fine.” Kageyama stepped in, playing with his fingers. “Sorry for falling asleep, by the way. You… you didn’t get a chance to…”

      “Hey, it’s fine.” Tsukishima walked over and pinched his husband’s cheeks, smiling when they went that lovely shade of bright red he’d grown so accustomed to. “What did I tell you? We’ve got eternity together.”

      “Eternity?”

      “Eternity.” Tsukishima’s lips touched upon Kageyama’s, as if sealing that promise for sure. The blonde’s hands were safe at Kageyama’s waist, keeping the two of them close together. When Tsukishima had sealed their promise for good, he pulled away, dropping one last kiss on Kageyama’s nose before speaking. “Now, what do you say we have some of that sake?”

      Kageyama grinned. “It’s a date.”


End file.
